


With Friends Like These...

by the_guy_they_call_atlas



Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Ending Jack Ryan, Cynicism, Jack is a Cynical Bastard, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sarcasm, Splicer!Elizabeth, Swearing, attempt at humor (probably failed), attempt to write children, depictions of gore, mentions of Bad Ending, mentions of Tenenbaum, mentions of child death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2020-05-20 14:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 89,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19378300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_guy_they_call_atlas/pseuds/the_guy_they_call_atlas
Summary: Jack wakes up alone in Rapture after the events of BioShock. He needs to find out what happened and a way out, and he thinks he's found both when he meets a certain Little Sister, one of the many left behind by Tenenbaum in the less accessible parts of the city. He's got a plan and she's got knowledge that will prove to be very useful, but it'll take nothing short of a miracle to survive the trip when one of them practically has no idea what's going on and the other has conflating morals. Did he mention the crazy drug-addicted psycho who's hot on their trail?





	1. Chapter 1: I Couldn't Be Bothered to Make Up Creative Names For This Story, So My Bad in Advance

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this fic by UberVenkman's story "Burial at Sea: Buried Alive." It is an amazing piece of work, and I would highly recommend reading it for anyone who's interested: s/10291349/28/Burial-at-Sea-Buried-Alive. It's a good read, and for anyone looking for an Elizabeth-centric "escape from Rapture" story, I don't think you'll find a better one; personally, it's one of my favorite fics. With that said, let's get the ball rolling!

 

Jack Ryan is, for lack of a better word, fairly pissed.

...Actually, there are quite a few, much more  _descriptive_ words that could describe Jack Ryan right now. Furious. Annoyed, perhaps. Definitely resentful. Fuming, for sure. Indignant, exasperated, outraged. 100% bitter. Very vexed.

Fairly pissed.

He'd gone through all this trouble, all of this heartbreak, indignation, and just downright  _bullshit_ that to wake up, alone, with nobody else in sight and his whole body feeling like shit, next to his greatest enemy's slain corpse was just  _insulting._

What the hell had happened? He doesn't know. Maybe if he takes a good look around his memory will come back to him, or at least piece together what had occurred. Figuring that now was as good a time to start as any, he makes to stand, immediately wincing as he does so. Yep. Definitely something broken, he thinks, shaking his a little to clear the pain. A terrible decision, as it turns out, because that just makes it that much sharper. He winces again, hissing in pain as he blinks rapidly to clear his blurry vision. He finally stands all the way up, shifting so that he's favoring his right leg instead of his left-he can tell that his left ankle is at least twisted, if not broken. The pain that shoots through his leg as he takes a small step forward only serves to reinforce that idea. He sighs in frustration and sits down again, using the ground as a seat.

_What do I spy with my little eye?_

Well, not much. The elevator is barred, but he already knew that. He'd heard it lock behind him when he'd come in to confront this bastard. He figured, though, that he'd be able to get out again once he'd finished his task-from his current vantage point next to the said bastard it doesn't look like it's been tampered with since then, but maybe if he got a closer look some minor but vital vandalism would be visible. For now, though, it looks good enough, and holds no further interest to Jack, so he turns his attention elsewhere in the room.

There's a hacked security camera behind the raised dais that Fontaine had run to whenever he'd needed an ADAM recharge. It's hanging off its hinges and looks far too damaged to be of any use to him, so he overlooks it and the dozens of corpses that its wrath had caused. Although...the corpses do give him an idea. He doesn't bother standing up again, knowing that he would never make it on his own busted ankle. Instead he crawls over to the nearest corpse and begins rummaging through the pockets. He finds nothing but a long past-expiration date candy bar and a flask of wine, the latter of which he decides is not to his liking and so pours out. He keeps the flask though.

So it goes for the next twenty or so minutes, Jack fumbling along the ground to the next nearest body and searching for any kind of weaponry (his own had apparently either been completely trashed in the fight with Fontaine or out of ammo, the latter of which he finds very little of here). He does find quite a bit of cash, though, so if he can limp his way to one of those miracle health stations he can patch himself up. The thought doesn't do much to comfort him. After all, he still has no idea what had happened aside from a faint recollection of the end of the battle, when he had bludgeoned Fontaine to death with his wrench before supposedly passing out himself. He also has no way out of here, as upon closer inspection there appears to be no way to unlock the gate that guards the elevator. Maybe he can pry it open, given the right tools, but he doesn't see anything potentially useful lying around. Unless.

_A crowbar would probably work,_ he reasoned, eyeing a dead splicer nearby who had one clutched in his hand.  _Even if it was used for bludgeoning skulls first._

Jack makes quick work of the distance separating him from his prize, cursing when he accidentally puts pressure on his injured ankle. Hissing through the pain, he soldiers on, only stopping when he reaches out an arm and his fingers barely brush against the cool metal of the bloodied crowbar. He fumbles for a bit, not able to move up much farther on his own. He tries wiggling his hips upward to give himself a bit of momentum, just enough to get a grip on the iron and pull it towards him. It takes a minute, but he finally manages it, using his fingers to push the opposite tip towards him so he can grab onto the curved end and claim it.

With the crowbar in hand, Jack sits up and surveys his surroundings one last time, assuring himself that there is nothing left that could possibly be of any benefit to him before stumbling to the elevator and putting all of his strength behind the crowbar as he tries to push the metal gate up and out of the way. In the end he actually has to step on the damn thing and jump repeatedly to get it to move at all. When it finally does, Jack sighs in relief, glad that something finally went right today. He shuffles into the elevator, taking great care to put as little pressure on his ankle as possible when moving. Thankfully, the button still works, and soon Jack is heading back the way he came, past already killed splicers and Big Daddy corpses. It's...unusually quiet, this time around. It worries him. Before, when he had been escorting one of the Sisters this way, there hadn't been a moment's rest. Every second he stopped to breath was a second that he was not guarding the girl, and she could end up dead.

Everything Jack had been bred to believe is a lie. Nothing had been spared from the truth, not even his own personal beliefs and morals that he'd thought he'd had. Everything he thought he'd known about good and evil, wrong or right, had turned out to be nothing more than an elaborate con. He himself was no more than, as Suchong had so eloquently put it, a human jukebox, ready to play whatever tune Fontaine pleased.

Emphasis on the  _was_.

_I'm not some marionette that Fontaine can just jerk around,_ Jack thinks angrily as he limps his way through Point Prometheus, carefully avoiding the various security cameras and lurking splicers that he had not paid attention to before, too cautious with the child to take any risks.  _Not anymore. Fontaine is dead, and my strings have been cut. No one left to reattach and pull them. Not anymore. Never again._

He knows the thought should bring him something pleasant-victory, perhaps, because despite everything or happiness of some kind. Maybe some sense of relief that his "purpose" has been fulfilled, and once he gets ahold of Tenenbaum and gets out of the place, he can get away from all of it and live somewhere quiet-maybe a farm way out in the middle of nowhere, with no one to bother him so he can live out the rest of his days in peace. That doesn't sound like him, though. The quiet life never was for Jack Ryan.  _But,_  he reasons,  _maybe that's just my programming._

As he makes his way through the area, picking off splicers if he has to and hacking security cameras, he can't help but wonder where Tenenbaum and the girls are. He most likely would have heard by now if they were in danger, and it was out of character for Tenenbaum to offer any sort of commentary on his current actions unless they could get him killed or something equally damnable. Perhaps his radio had been damaged in the fight? This thought hadn't occurred to him, and since it seems the most likely explanation for her radio silence, Jack unhooks the radio from his belt and looks it over, ducking behind a wall for cover as a nearby security camera sweeps the area.

Almost no new damage has befallen the small object, and Jack frowns as his questions remain unanswered.  _That rules out fault equipment, then,_  Jack thinks a bit bitterly.  _Why can't something go right just once? Is that so much to ask?_

He studies it again. The signal lights are on, and none of the buttons have been smashed. Some bits of the radio have broken off, yes, but nothing important as far as Jack can tell. He's starting to worry that something has happened to the girls and Tenenbaum. He can think of no reason for the German doctor to give him radio silence now, not when Fontaine has been slain and Jack is no longer...well, he doesn't want to think about that, but the thought does give him pause. Tenenbaum wouldn't have done that. Would she?

Fearing the worst, Jack decides that he needs to get back to the Sanctuary as soon as possible.

It's abandoned when he gets there.

With the exception of some rusted pipes sticking out of the walls and stains on the carpet, it doesn't look as though anything interesting ever happened here. It certainly doesn't look like it used to be a haven for little girls, at least not until he gets further inside. He makes his was to the room he woke up in after finding out about Fontaine's betrayal and finds it deserted, as expected, but not quite so empty as the rest fo the place. Jack's initial fears are assuaged temporarily-it doesn't look as though the place had been massacred, now or ever-but those fears flare up again extremely quick after stepping a bit further into the room and tripping over something and landing face-first onto something soft.

Soft?

He gets up quickly, expecting a fight, but there's no one there besides himself. Confused, he looks around, and feels his stomach fill with dread as he realizes that this room is also abandoned, but if you you didn't know it, you wouldn't be able to tell. Various children's toys litter the floor in various places, some still positioned as though the children had simply left for a snack and were going to come back any moment. Most of the tall towers and little houses made of the building blocks still stand, though some have been knocked down by an unknown force, possibly unsteadiness or another child. Stuffed animals, mostly bears, sit in a circle near one of the corners of the room, obviously having a meeting of some sort, with some of the dolls in attendance. A fair few are missing their body parts such as heads, arms, and legs. Chalk is also scattered far and wide, the colored sticks having been used to decorate the non-carpet areas of the floor with crude drawings of angels and Big Daddies, along with some things that Jack couldn't make out but appeared to be pleasant enough. There are half-eaten snacks on the table and Tenenbaum's office door appears to be unlocked, which Jack knows would not be so if she or any of the children were here. That more than anything sends chills down his spine. By the looks of it, everyone just up and left as quickly as they could, not wasting time packing everything and transporting it. But why would they need to leave in the first place? And if they did simply up and leave, for whatever reason, why did they leave everything behind? Without context, it looks as though they were in danger and hurried to get out as quickly as possible before the danger could reach them. But what danger could they possibly be in? Fontaine is dead. The girls surely know that, as they helped him defeat the bastard. They should be in no danger. But perhaps they had left before then? Maybe Tenenbaum was taking extra precautions, in case Jack failed...again.

That thought in mind, he cautiously proceeds to the office door, careful not to disturb the abandoned toys as he grips his wrench so tightly his knuckles turn white. His sense of foreboding only grows stronger as he nears it; he reaches out and pushes it open further, fearing the worst. As expected, it too is abandoned; a rotting apple sits on the desk, half-eaten, aside a lamp and a bottle of distilled water. There's nothing else on the desk, not even in the drawers, which have clearly been emptied of anything of value-he would have expected nothing less from her. A cursory glance around the rest of the room reveals that unlike the room outside, it has been stripped clean, save for a small device that closer inspection reveals to be an Audio Diary tucked behind the bed, narrated by none other than Brigid Tenenbaum herself. He presses play, sitting on the bed and holding the diary in his hands as if in a trance.

" ** _*long, drawn out sigh*_** _I don't know what to do about Jack. I have trusted this man with our lives, blindly,_ _ **stupidly**_ _believing that he had a soul, a heart, and that he would not dare to hurt a child, an innocent…_ _ ***huff***_ _I was a fool. I played a part in his creation; I helped shape him into the man he is today, who is lying still unconscious in the hospital bed outside this room after he learned the truth of who he was. I helped to program his mind and teach his body, his senses, things no man should ever know; I helped program his mind to be that of an assassin's, a cold-blooded killer's-and I expected something different?_ _ ***low, mournful chuckle***_ _I did all of this...to an innocent, who did not ask to be brought into this world and used like the tool he was shaped to be-and to many others whose names I did not even know-and I felt nothing, only dedication to my work and the thrill of success when the mission was accomplished. But later...later._ _ ***another sigh***_ _When I finally came to my senses and starting working on a cure for the Little Ones, I found myself often wondering what would happen to the child...the_ _ **thing**_ _that I helped to create. Would his purpose be fulfilled? Would he indeed return one day, to kill his own father and to place Frank Fontaine on the throne of Rapture? I did not know, and I did not wish to know. I tried to forget, but I always remembered...my hands will never be free of blood, whether it be his or the children I have sworn to protect._ _ ***silence for a few moments***_ _I have made this man to be like me-a monster. But perhaps he feels as I used to-dedication to success and determined to crush anyone who stands in his way. Perhaps he too will find redemption-perhaps, unlike me, he will come to deserve it._ " Her voice becomes strained at the end, as though she is trying not to cry, and there is silence for a few more moments before the tape stops, leaving an ominous silence in its wake.

There are no words appropriate for the whirlwind of emotions welling inside of Jack's chest as the tape comes to a stop. Anger, resentment, regret, sorrow, and sudden fatigue all threaten to overcome him and bring him to his knees. He fights them all, struggling to comprehend what he had just heard and to understand what exactly had happened, but he can't do it. His head is spinning and even though he's sitting he feels like he is about to fall over. He sighs, dropping the diary and putting his head in his hands ruefully as he mulls over the events of the past two days. He doesn't move for a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

So.

Tenenbaum had left him for dead after he had killed Fontaine, presumably taking the girls that she had saved with her and fleeing to the surface. In the process, Jack was deemed unworthy and so was left to die and his corpse to rot. No wonder the place looks like they just up and left—they probably did. Jack takes another cursory glance around the place, noting how much of it looks as though they were simply winked out of existence where they stood. They probably didn't want to risk Jack waking up before they were gone and discovering their plot. By the looks of it, they took whatever they had in their hands, Tenenbaum's notes, and any supplies, and hopped on the next bathysphere to the surface. Jack wonders how long it's been since he defeated Fontaine, and how long since the girls left. Hours? Days? There's no way to tell, really—all the clocks down here stopped working ages ago. Hell, maybe they're still down here—if they are, though, they're far away and Jack has no hope of reaching them for a confrontation. To be frank, he doesn't really even want to. It's his fault he got left behind, after all.

Fontaine had promised him power, but he didn't want power. He had wanted to go home. Fontaine had promised him that too. He had promised that those girls, "Tenenbaum's little Frankensteins," as he had called them, were no longer human, only mere husks of what they used to be with no memory and no sense of self. He had sworn that they would feel nothing when he slaughtered their metal protectors and tore out their ADAM, that even though they cried, they screamed, they  _feared him_ , it was all in his head and they were nothing more that drug-producing machines who were once like everyone else. They were not children—they were monsters, on the same level as the splicers and the Big Daddys, and no doubt in Fontaine's eyes they got exactly what they deserved when Jack had mercilessly slaughtered them. Their lives didn't matter—his did. He was doing them a  _favor_ , apparently, by murdering them for their ADAM. If he hadn't been so goddamn naive and trusting at the beginning of this whole mess then maybe things would have turned out differently and he'd be seeing the sunlight right about now.

He never wanted any of this. He had thought himself a good man, one who went to church on Sundays and who gave at the poorhouses, but then his plane went down in the middle of the Atlantic and he got stuck down here in a crazy game of life or death, and oh! Would you look at that, he's not even a man and his morals are fucked to Timbuktu, and on top of that he's become a drug addict and some kind of serial killer. Where the hell did he go wrong?

Oh, right.

He was an idiot. That of course is severely oversimplicating it, but at the moment that's the most PG word he can come up with. He had been lied to about everyone and everything. He had been told that soon as Atlas' wife and child were found then he could go home with them. He had been told that Brigid Tenenbaum was a morally ambiguous geneticist that only cared about her next big discovery and who until recently did not care about the monsters she had created, man or girl, and she certainly didn't care that her new wonder drug had already destroyed dozens of lives by the time Rapture really began its descent into madness. Fontaine was dead, Ryan was an untrustworthy bastard that cared more about politics and money than actual people, and Atlas was just a husband/father that wanted his family back. Jack was a man with a past and a family, a home and friends and possibly a job and a college degree.

But that was all a lie, wasn't it?

Just like everything else.

Atlas was Fontaine, Tenenbaum has a conscience, and Jack isn't even human—he's a freak of nature, never meant to exist, but he does anyways, thanks to the combined works of Tenenbaum and Suchong. He was synthetically grown in a superlab, using chemicals and ADAM and scientific breakthroughs that shouldn't have existed for another couple centuries before being unleashed upon the world, doing God knows what for two years before being "activated" and sent down here to kill Ryan and place Fontaine on the throne of Rapture. Those girls, those innocent children who were forcibly taken from their homes (or, for the unluckier ones, the streets), or simply given up for adoption, were taken and modified to be neverending drug pumping machines, and then forgotten about and left to rot, forever, in this diseased hell once everyone had lost their minds and no one was left to care. They are not the monsters, Jack realizes this now—they are the victims, victims created under the worst circumstances possible, and the monsters themselves are the ones who create and exploit them for their own gain. They have been left with no choice and no will, their minds empty but for the nameless tunes they sing and the tasks they dutifully attend to.

They are not the monsters—Jack is.

He cannot erase the atrocities he has committed. He can't bring them back. He'll never forget their screams or their cries of terror. He will not beg for forgiveness when they both know he is completely undeserving of it. He can never hope to make up for what he has done here, and he doesn't plan to—he's not even going to pretend that he can. Just because he had a change of heart near the end and decided to start saving Sisters after Tenenbaum had saved his life does not mean that all would be well as soon as he defeated Fontaine, which at that point he did more for himself than anyone else. He didn't expect forgiveness, certainly, but he had perhaps hoped—again incredibly naively—that they wouldn't just leave him to die and that they'd at least leave a bathysphere for him so he could get out too. They probably didn't, which is fair enough.

Though, now that he's alive  _and_ truly alone for the first time since coming here, he might want to ditch the broken radio and start working on an escape plan himself. He doesn't really see how he can escape with no knowledge of where he is, how much time has passed, and no general knowledge of the layout of Rapture, but he's sure he can figure something out. Oh, and he needs a bathysphere. He's  _sure_  to find one of those just lying around, waiting for him to take it. Okay, first things first: a map. True, he does recognize this place, and he thinks he has a general layout of the place, but without knowing how much time has passed and who's in charge now (if indeed anyone was in charge) then he can't take any chances. He'd rather not die again, thank you very much—it's a very unpleasant bit of business, and he doesn't even know if the Vita-Chambers are operational anymore.  _Tenenbaum probably disabled them in a last ditch-effort to get rid of me, just in case Plan A didn't work._

Right. He needs a map. Now, where the hell is he going to get one of those? He didn't see one while he was looking around the Sanctuary earlier, and as he takes a second glance around everything, he doesn't see one now. He sighs, running a hand down his face. "I suppose it doesn't matter now, anyways. If she had one down here, it'd only be as recent as the last time she was here, and who knows how long she's been gone...not to mention, even if she did have one, she probably took it with her. Damnit." He stops suddenly, realizing what he'd just done, and groans loudly, placing his head in his hands. "Oh, great. Now I'm talking to myself. I really am going crazy. Okay, so no map. I'll have to go in blind. That's sure to work out perfectly." He steps away from the table he had been leaning against and starts pacing, thinking out loud as he calculates in his head.

"Now, the bathysphere. That is definitely going to be harder to come by. Tenenbaum is, reasonably, incredibly pissed at me, and since she already left me to die, it can be assumed that she didn't leave me a way out, either. She must have missed something, though—I just have to figure out what. Ryan and Fontaine definitely must have had bathyspheres, and kept them under high maintenance, so those would be my best bet—but they'd also be my first choice, so no doubt Tenenbaum took care of those. The bathyspheres I used to get to the different areas of Rapture might work, but if the one from Apollo Square is gone when I get there, then I'm more than likely stuck here unless there happens to be another bathysphere in another area of the place. Even so…I do remember something or someone saying that those bathyspheres are set to a certain track, and follow only that, so even if that bathysphere is still there, the only place I'm going is back the way I came." He mulls that over, still pacing the floor, careful not to trip over any of the discarded toys.  _Think, think, think. You need to get out of here._ "Obviously, I need to get a different bathysphere—one that isn't attached to the tracks and one that wasn't owned by Fontaine or Ryan. I need a new one." He stops at that, and groans again. "Oh, fuck me, this just keeps getting better. Okay. So I need to find out where the bathyspheres were manufactured, grab one, and somehow haul it into the ocean in order to make my escape. Simple. Fantastic."

He paces even faster now, his mind racing with calculations and possibilities. He barely pays attention to his surroundings now, only noticing the various toys on the occasion that he nearly trips over them several times. His heart is pumping in his ears, uncertainty is blossoming in his chest, and his anxiety is making itself known by the beads of sweat on his forehead. He wrings his hands together in both frustration and anger as he thinks up scenario after scenario of what lay ahead and of what surprises Tenenbaum might have left for him. And what if there wasn't a way out? Perhaps he'd find out quickly, or perhaps he'd go through a whole lot of trouble just to find himself at a dead end….no. No, he's come too far to quit now. He is  _not_ going to die down here, and he's certainly not going without a fight. Jack Ryan is no quitter—he was literally  _born_  to survive, and that is exactly what he is going to do, Tenenbaum be damned. He takes a deep breath, opening his eyes and focusing on the next obstacle in his escape.

"Item number three: knowledge. I need a more sophisticated layout of Rapture—and not just the places I've been. I suppose I'm in no rush—after all, nobody is waiting for me and the surface isn't going anywhere, but I would like to get out of here as soon as possible. I also need to know how much time has passed, and what's changed since I've been knocked out. Most likely I've only been knocked out for a couple of hours or so, but Tenenbaum went through all this trouble so I'm sure she's blocked some of the paths that I would have used to retrace my steps. I'll have to watch my step and think of alternate routes, which I can't really do without a detailed map of the place, which brings me back to square one." He huffs a hollow laugh, shaking his head. Oh, that is just his luck. "Damnit. Well, I've really screwed the pooch on this one, haven't I? I suppose there's nothing for it but to just…improvise. I mean, I've lasted this long, right? What could go wrong?"

* * *

He's a fucking idiot, that's what's wrong.

As he dodges another blow, ducking his head just in time to avoid being dashed in the face by the Bouncer's drill, he shoots off an Electro Bolt at a security bot that's whirring dangerously close to his head—just one of many that are hanging around the area, just waiting for him to slip up. He shoots that one with his gun before sliding under the arm of the Bouncer who had until two seconds ago had him almost pinned to a wall; he recovers in record time and stands behind it, firing off one, two, three shots. The monster roars in rage as it turns to face him, which is when Jack fires off his Incinerate! Plasmid. He turns away from the Big Daddy for the moment, instead focusing his attention on the various other bots that are circling his head. He Electro Bolts a few more before he's out of EVE, sending them sparking to the ground, where they explode rather dramatically. He barely has a second's reprieve before he's facing off against the metal brute again—battered, charred, but still very much alive. Jack groans, ducking behind a stack of crates to escape the Big Daddy's gaze long enough to shoot up. He digs through his satchel for an EVE hypo, grabbing it and plunging it into his arm, which he immediately regrets—but no time for those now, as no sooner is the needle in his arm than the metal Frankenstein revves his drill and begins to search for Jack. He scowls, taking the now empty needle and throwing it in the direction of the monster, who turns in his direction angrily. Jack stands up quickly after that, stepping out from behind the crates and readying his Incinerate! again. He snaps his fingers, angling them towards the monster and setting it alight once more. He quickly steps back as the creature roars in pain, struggling to charge at his aggressor while also trying not to die. Another dose of white-hot fire from Jack, and he fails on both fronts, dropping to the ground and emitting a last, pitiful whine before becoming silent.

Jack has time for a few quick breaths before he is rather painfully reminded that the Big Daddy isn't the only aggressor here. He ducks to avoid being shot again, clutching his now bleeding bicep and hissing in pain. He heads for the nearest structure he can position himself behind that will shield him for long enough to patch himself up. He ducks again, falling to the floor as another whirlybird (this one much closer) takes a few more shots at him. He manages to avoid being hit again, rolling out of the way and re-equipping his Electro Bolt. He kneels on one knee, raising his fist and zapping the nearest bot, shooting it out of the air before it can fall itself. He does the same to a couple more before turning and making a break to the nearest pillar he can hide behind.

"No, no, no where is it? It's in here somewhere, it has to be…"

He can't find it. Oh God he can't—wait shit, there it is. Thank God. He pulls the first aid kit out, snapping the "lock" and pulling out a roll of gauze, which he proceeds to wrap around his bicep in an attempt to staunch the bleeding until he can get a proper look at it. If this were a normal situation, then he would definitely have to stitch it up before doing anything of the sort, and worry about possibly getting an infection from his carelessness. But nothing about these circumstances are normal, and who needs to worry about infections and stitches when you're in steampunk Wonderland? In a bizarre moment of disassociation, he recalls a few lines from the book, which apparently his fake memories had recalled reading at some point:

' _But I don't want to go among mad people,' said Alice._

' _Oh, you can't help that,' said the cat. 'We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.'_

' _How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice._

' _You must be,' said the cat, 'or you wouldn't have come here.'_

He finishes and make sure the gauze tape is secure before taking another look at the scenario, careful not to be seen. The whirlybirds are obviously confused as to where he's gone, and their high-pitched whirring is really grating his ears, but it won't be long before they find out where he is and give him another dose of bullets. glares at them as if they're sentient beings and they can tell how much he hates them.

God, he's really gone off the deep end.  _I feel you, Alice._

He waits until one ventures a bit too close to his position for comfort before zapping it out of the air with Electro Bolt before quickly switching to Winter Blast. He switches out his pistol for his wrench, quickly bringing down the heavily misused tool on the downed bot, causing it to explode in a shower of sparks. He stands up, stepping out from behind his hiding spot and releasing Winter Blast at the next bot that comes after him. He uses his wrench to knock the frozen machine out of the air; as it flies in the opposite direction, it collides with another bot, and the two create an explosion that knocks a few other bots that are near the pair out of orbit. Jack prepares to take out the remaining numbers, raising his Plasmid hand and pointing his fingers at them. Almost immediately, they freeze, dropping to the ground and a more than a few of them shatter like glass. The ones that don't, the wrench takes care of. He sighs, making sure there are no more immediate threats before nearly collapsing against the pillar, sliding down until he's sitting against it.

" _What could go wrong?_ " he mutters in a high-pitched voice, mocking his own words from earlier. "Yeah, absolutely  _nothing._  That went  _swimmingly._  Right up to the part where my Static Discharge tonic went off while standing next to that Big Daddy, pissing him off and causing him to go crazy, which in turn caused me to be seen by the security cameras and be viciously attacked by tiny robots. Yep,  _exactly_  according to plan. Fuck, I hate my life." Jack bangs the back of his head against the pillar, groaning pathetically. When did his life become so screwed up? Just…what, two days ago? Three? Just three days ago he was a country boy who had parents, a good life, and a home, and now here he was, the son of an exotic dancer and a businessman, and who just so happened to also be an assassin and a serial killer, left to die by the only two people he had come to trust in this diseased hellhole—one of whom happened to be a conman who wanted to take Rapture for himself, and the other of whom was a reasonably decent person who happened to be extremely pissed at him for murdering the innocent children she once ruthlessly created and exploited. If someone had explained the situation to him before getting involved in all this mess, he would have told them it sounded like the plot of a dystopian/sci-fi dime novel—and yet, here he is, alone and desolate at the bottom of the ocean with no fucks left to give.

He sits against that pillar for what seems like hours (but in reality is only a few minutes or so), before he accidentally shifts his body the wrong way and his injured bicep grazes against the edge of the stone. He jumps back, hissing in pain, before pulling back the—by now—very bloody gauze and scowling at the wound. Yeah, if he doesn't treat that soon it's probably going to get infected. Not to mention that unless he also wishes to have that bullet become a permanent fixture in his arm, he's going to have to find a way to dig it out of his arm before the ADAM in his system heals around it. He mutters a string of curse words under his breath, not stopping until he's dragged his satchel onto his lap and is digging through it for what he needs.

He finds another first aid kit and his wallet, setting the kit aside and counting how much money he has left...about thirty bucks. Should be enough to get him healed at a health station, if he can find one that hasn't been destroyed by splicers. Slowly, he stands up, resting himself against the pillar for a moment or two before beginning his journey, making his way around the area with Winter Blast in one hand and his wrench in the other.

He takes extra caution this time not to be seen by the security camera that is still vigorously sweeping the area, wondering for a second whether or not he should just destroy the damn thing before deciding that his shooting arm probably wouldn't like that; he continues on, and has to pause several times to avoid being spotted until he's out of the camera's range. He passes by a group of splicers, muttering about ADAM and someone named Carl, who apparently went crazy (well, crazier than usual down here) and killed off a couple members of their group. They don't seem to notice Jack himself, and to keep it that way, he crouches low and waits until their backs are turned to him before attempting to sneak past. He succeeds without a problem, and just as he turns the corner he spots the Holy Grail—an undisturbed health machine, hung against the wall just ahead of him.  _Finally,_ he thinks to himself, starting to walk towards it,  _my luck is turning._

* * *

After he's dug the bullet out and plunged yet another no doubt filthy needle into his arm, his wound is healed and he can continue onto Task #2. Actually, he notes as he makes his way to the bathysphere that brought him here (just to be certain), he's feeling a lot less tired than he was. There must be some sort of adrenaline shot mixed with the medicine. He files that away for future reference. He manages to avoid being seen by any more splicers or Big Daddys, and moves with surprising ease through the area, somehow remembering the way back despite only having been through here once. He does have to improvise quite a few times, as there are indeed piles of rubble and malfunctioning equipment blocking his original path. He decides not to attract attention by trying to blow up the automatic doors that won't open or the previously hacked turrets and security cameras that seemed to have become mysteriously unhacked. Besides, he's out of grenades, and he's not sure how much good they would do anyways—he might get rid of the door, but receive a pile of rubble for his trouble; so he doesn't bother, instead focusing his efforts on finding alternate ways through the obstacles. He does try to re-hack the turrets and security cameras, but his efforts prove to be in vain as not only do they remain un-hacked, but they emit a very loud screeching sound that almost immediately calls every splicer in the area to his position. Thankfully, his mind is quick and he tails it out of there before they arrive. He makes a mental note not to try that again, and continues onto the bathysphere.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, so he hadn’t actually thought that far ahead in this particular part of the plan. Sue him. He hasn’t actually _expected_ the bathysphere to still be stationed here, considering that it looks to be the only way out and Tenenbaum and the girls are clearly gone. It looks to be I’m the same condition that he had last seen it, too—rusty, old, and in need of some serious maintenance, but still very much intact and functioning. Jack has to laugh at this insane stroke of luck as he climbs into the machine, checking to make sure that everything is actually ship-shape before grinning widely—the first real smile since...God, he doesn’t even know when. He decides not to think about that, and instead focuses on getting the hell out of here and expanding on this particular part of his plan.

“Okay, so the bathysphere’s here, which—while unexpected—is definitely not unwelcome. So I have a way out, but no idea where to go or how to get anywhere besides where I’ve already been, since I’ve been forced to forgo the map. I suppose I could start by retracing my steps through Rapture, but I remember some stuck doors and tunnel collapses blocking my way backwards. and if you combine that with Tenenbaum, then I’m almost sure to run into some trouble on the way. Besides, going backwards wouldn’t really do me any good, since I’ve already come to the conclusion that she’s already gotten the hell out of Rapture and has already proven my theory that she’s left me with more than some opposition. She wouldn’t have left the bathysphere I came in. Still...I really have no other option, so going backwards is really my only hope. Who knows, maybe I’ll find a map or even another bathysphere station at some point—I mean, I still have no idea where I need to go for the whole ‘private bathysphere’ idea but it’s someplace to start at least.”

He moves to stand in front of the lever in the middle of the giant contraption, contemplating his so-called “plan” for a few more seconds before deciding _screw it, I’m out of ideas anyway_ and pulling it towards him. Above it, there is a soft _ding_ as the destination selection lights up, highlighting several areas that he’s already been to and ignoring several areas he hasn’t—probably because they were either shut down or Tenenbaum screwed with them. EIther way, he knows the thing works, and he knows that he can continue with his eventually fruitless plan. His finger hovers over the selection list, debating where to head first. He could just skip the shenanigans and head straight for the Medical Pavilion, which wouldn’t do much good in the long run but it would at least get him out of Olympus Heights. He could head for Hephaestus...no, actually, he’d rather not. Nothing waiting for him there besides Big Daddys and nitro splicers, neither of which he is particularly eager to encounter again. That’s a no then.

Fort Frolic is a very vehement _hell no._ Even though he took care of that slimy bastard  Sander Cohen as soon as their business was finished, he still has absolutely no desire to return there any time soon. Who knows, maybe in the very short time he’d been away from the place someone else had taken up Cohen’s deluded position and was sending someone else on a wild goose chase, photographing dead people and hanging their pictures on a wall. Besides, Fort Frolic is somewhat remote—he had searched the whole place top to bottom trying to find an alternate means of getting out of there, bathysphere or otherwise, but found nothing for his troubles. So Fort Frolic is another dead end, both for logical and personal reasons.

Arcadia? No—although he remembers that there are two stations there, he knows that they both run on the same track, and so switching bathyspheres would not only be pointless, but time-consuming, as they are on opposite ends of the forest-turned-jungle. He supposes that he has quite a bit of time now, given that there are no power-hungry sociopaths on his tail or vengeful German doctors spitting in his ear about morality and justice, but he decides to forgo Arcadia all the same.

Port Neptune is a no-go as well, as Jack remembers that the tunnel leading to the bathysphere that would lead him to Arcadia collapsed behind him as he left the station. He supposes that if he stocked up on proximity mines and frag grenades he could possibly clear the tunnel, but it wouldn’t be worth it—it is a fishing port, after all, and there hadn’t been very much the first time he had been that way, so he doubts that that’s changed.

That would leave only the Welcome Center, which he could not get back to even if there was a bathysphere station there. The tunnel connecting it to the rest of Rapture collapsed as he went through it, thanks to the remnants of Apollo Air Flight DF-301 crashing into it at the worst possible time. He had nearly drowned, he remembers, and shudders at the memory.

Okay, so the Welcome Center, Port Neptune, Arcadia, and Hephaestus are all dead ends, which leaves him with Point Prometheus, which he has already cleared, and Olympus Heights and its corresponding areas, which were mostly residential and therefore would most likely not have more than one bathysphere station...which he is now standing in. He surveys the selection list once more, withdrawing his finger as he studies the names. He doesn’t see any new areas that would hold any sort of merit for him—again, the names shown are places he’s already been before, but he figures that if he ever wants to get out of here, he should just get on with it and pick one. Deciding that even though the only thing he’ll achieve by returning is wasting more time, but knowing that it’s probably the least remote area that he’d come across so far and therefore his best chance of finding a way out of the city, he makes to press the button for the Medical Pavilion, only to be distracted by something flickering out of the corner of his eye.

What…?

On the left row, the third one from the bottom is flickering gently, the yellow light that highlights every name trying desperately to make the faded lettering readable. All of them have faded lettering from years of disuse and undermatinence, but this one seems to be the worst. Jack squints as he tries to make out what it says, from the light alone, but he can’t quite manage it. He sighs, switching from his Winter Blast Plasmid to his Incinerate! and holding it close enough to the list to make out what it says but not close enough to have any risk of touching it.

_FONTAINE’S DEPARTMENT STORE_

He has to swallow the bile that threatens to rise in his throat at seeing the name of Fontaine, but mentally he chides himself, reminding himself that not only is Fontaine dead, but by his hand. With that in mind, he relaxes just a bit, taking a deep breath before pressing the button, jumping when he hears the little _ding_ that accompanies it—he scolds himself for that too, groaning internally as the bathysphere starts to descend. He doesn’t know what awaits him in this “department store”; if it actually is a department store or just another of Fontaine’s fronts; but what he _does_ know is that it is a major step-up from his current plan, which has bullet-points but no real way to achieve them. Whatever this new part of Rapture holds, it has to be better than what he’s already got.

 

*************

 

A few minutes later, the bathysphere docks, shedding a violent shiver throughout the craft as it slides into the port. Jack, unaware in his preoccupied musings, is thrown unceremoniously against the seats as the machine settles. He winces at the pain, but after a cursory glance to make sure nothing’s broken, he moves on, standing up and stepping out of the bathysphere. He recoils almost immediately, bringing a hand to his nose in disgust as he looks around for the source of the smell. Eventually, he decides that it must simply be a feature of the place, and after remembering that he’s smelled far worse, continues on, closing the bathysphere door behind him and setting traps around it—just in case. You can never be too careful in Rapture, after all.

The place, of course, looks abandoned, in accordance with the rest of Rapture—but surprisingly, unlike the rest of Rapture, everything here seems to be...Jack isn’t sure what word he’s looking for, so he contemplates that for a moment, frowning. Cleaner, he supposes—no, scratch that— _definitely_ cleaner, and surprisingly not as trashed as he would have expected. There aren’t nearly as many bodies or bloodstains, and though the area is for some reason smaller than the other Metro stations he had come across, it is fully recognizable for what it is. Clearly, nobody has been through here in a while—something which both relieves and unnerves Jack, who unconsciously reaches for his pistol as he moves through the area. As he passes through the threshold into the main area (which, thankfully, is much larger), he spots a map hanging on a wall up ahead. As soon as he nears it, however, he notes with no small amount of disappointment that it’s been graffitied over, the message “ _THE PARASITE IS NOT YOUR FRIEND_ ” scrawled across in black ink. He huffs in frustration, and after glaring at the map for a full minute trying to make out any semblance of its contents, he gives up, turning to continue his journey. Before he can take another step, however, he notes with surprising calmness that he has just reached the first hiccup in his plan.

There’s a gate ahead—big, metal, and definitely locked—and on the other side of that gate is a very large gap, with a burst water pipe spanning the length and slowly but steadily flooding the space underneath. On the other side of the gap, there appears to be another of those SECURIS automatic doors that no doubt leads into the rest of the department store, but the doorway is filled with rubble. There does appear to be some sort of contraption above the gate, with a gently pulsing green light and a sort of hook hanging from its bottom, but it’s far too high for Jack to reach and besides, he doesn’t know if Winter Blast will freeze that pipe of if the Plasmid will be too weak. He walks up to the gate, feeling a strange sense of peace as he examines the impossible obstacle and realizes that there’s no way through. Even if he could somehow the gate that is currently wrapped in chains, and even if his Plasmid is strong enough to freeze a burst pipe when it can barely freeze a Big Daddy, he has no way to clear that rubble without grenades. Even if he did have grenades, he has no idea how much rubble there actually is, and if it extends further than what meets the eye. He could very well collapse that entire tunnel if he goes about this the wrong way.

Of course, that’s when he notices the very large sign plastered on the gate, the words written bolded and enlarged so that any moron—even spliced—could read it: _DANGER! DO NOT ENTER._ Underneath, the subtext read, _FONTAINE’S DEPARTMENT STORE, CLOSED BY ORDER OF THE COUNCIL_. Given that this “Council” is more than likely dead by this point, Jack doesn’t think he needs to seek out their approval before continuing forward, but even so he heeds the warning, muttering a string of curse words under his breath before trying to find an alternate way around. Perhaps he could start by finding something to hoist him up above the gate—he’s not getting through those chains on ground level, and that green machine up ahead looks to be a good bet. The machine probably needs something to work, though, and he has no idea what that looks like, but he’s got to start somewhere, right?

 

**************

 

Okay, so he had seen an advertisement for something called an “Air Grabber” that could be used to ride the Pneumo lines and grab onto some sort of metallic device that looks suspiciously like his mystery machine, so he had figured that that was probably what he was looking for. Although it’s certainly not a Pneumo line, he figures if the thing’s magnetic field is strong enough he can jump and it’ll do the work for him. If so, another streak of incredible luck.

Of course, he doesn’t find anything—most of the other sections are cut off, either by similar but smaller gates or by enormous piles of rubble. He finally gives in and temporarily abandons his search for the Grabber in favor of a Circus of Values—which of course, he doesn’t find. He _does_ find it _odd_ that there are no Circus of Values in the area, seeing that it’s a department store and those machines have quite a few practical items (far more so than any weaponry), but he ignores that particular warning sign and goes back to his previous task. After several more minutes of searching for the Grabber, and finding nothing, he resigns himself to heading back the way he came and hoping to find another way out. As he crosses through the threshold in the Metro again, he notices a large advertisement hanging above the still stationed bathysphere….depicting a much shinier bathysphere, a man and a woman sharing a cigarette, and the words _SHE WON’T BE ABLE TO LOOK AWAY….GET YOUR OWN_ **_PRIVATE_ ** _BATHYSPHERE AND TRAVEL ANYWHERE IN THE CITY! AVAILABLE AT THE_ **_BATHYSPHERE DELUXE_ ** _, IN THE DELUXE DEPARTMENT OF FONTAINE’S DEPARTMENT STORE_.

“Oh, are you fucking kidding me,” he groans dramatically, dragging a hand across his face. Just his luck. Goddamnit. Well, now he _has_ to get into that department store. He can’t very well do that though with a locked gate, a burst water pipe, and who knows how many tons of rubble blocking his way. But he’s not going to just sit back and take this, oh no. He’s Jack fucking Ryan, and he’s getting the fuck out of here or else. He sits there for a minute, spewing out a string of words that would make even the most hardened sailor blush, before straightening his stance and turning back.

He’s about halfway to the gate again, with the intent to search for something that he may have perhaps missed or looked over the first twenty times he examined the damn thing, when he hears something that has him reaching for his gun.

...Wait, what the hell _is_ that noise?

It sounds...small. Faint. Hollow. Metallic. As if a metal someone was tiptoeing around the area, or a splicer’s meat hooks were clinking against the ground, or as if someone were crawling around in the—

Oh. Oh, _no_. Oh, no no no _no_ _no no no._ Fuck no.

“Aw, shit.”

He looks around for the nearest vent—because come on, what area of Rapture _wouldn’t_ have at least half a dozen vents—and when he spots one sitting neatly against the wall, very different from the ones in the other areas he’s been in but still very distinguishable as what he’s looking for—he dashes towards it, heart pounding in his ears and bile rising in his throat. He hopes he’s wrong. He hopes, he _wants to be wrong, please be wrong again—_

As he nears the vent, he slows down considerably, almost tiptoeing the rest of the way. He’s grabbed his wrench instead of his gun, figuring that if he does come face to face with a Little Sister, then she probably wouldn’t appreciate a gun being shoved in her face. After waiting for several moments (in which he hears the noise again, several more times, and he steadily grows more anxious), he finally creeps his way to the opening of the vent. He lights his Incinerate! and holds it to the opening, peering in through the darkness.

“ _Mister Bubbles? Is that you?_ ” The double-edged bass tones of the Little Sister’s voice wafts up through the vent, sounding much closer than he had thought. It doesn’t take much longer before the metallic sound gets louder, and when it does Jack steps off the little ledge attached to the vent and extinguishes his flame, gripping his wrench tightly (even though he doesn’t plan on using it—it’s more of a comfort thing at this point, honestly). He waits with bated breath as not more than a minute later, a tiny, ghoulish hand pokes out of the vent and grips the edge tightly, pulling herself above the lip and smiling a deathly grin. The grin quickly disappears, much to Jack’s relief, when she realizes that he is not, in fact, Mr. Bubbles.

“Who are you?” she asks, tilting her head quizzically. She doesn’t sound frightened—in fact, she sounds almost curious, which given her innocent nature—though it clashes horribly with her tragic past—isn’t all that hard to swallow. Jack realizes that his expression is probably not the friendliest right now, and so he tries for a more settling look, taking another step back as he does so. He debates for a moment on whether or not to tell the kid his real name, but he decides that it probably couldn’t hurt. Emphasis on _probably._ He’s been wrong before, after all.

“I’m Jack. I didn’t mean to bother you, I apol—I’m sorry. I’m just trying to find a way out of here. I’m just going to…” he makes to move away, slowly but surely as he keeps eye contact with the girl. Her sunken yellow eyes follow his every move, and that scares him a lot more than it should, if he’s being honest. He represses a shudder and makes a little waving motion with his hand before turning around and heading back to the gate.

“Are you one of the bad men?”

At that, he has to turn around, nearly stumbling over his feet in his haste. “What?”

“The bad men. The ones that took the pretty lady away.”

He has no idea what she’s talking about, but he doesn’t think too hard about it, easily dismissing it as one of the Sister’s grand delusions that Suchong had programmed into their minds. He tries for a reassuring smile, but he doesn’t think it quite stretches. “Eh, no, I’m not, though I’m certainly no hero either. I’ll just—be on my way then. Nice talking to you.” He turns around again, quickening his pace before the girl can ask any more questions or deem him a threat and call her guardian, who he’s sure is lurking around somewhere.

“If you’re not one of the bad men, then do you know where Mister Bubbles went? Did the bad men take him too?” She notices him walking away, and quickly becomes more agitated, slapping her hand against the lip of the vent’s opening and actually yelling this time. “Hey! Come back! Did _you_ hurt Mister Bubbles? You _said_ you weren’t one of the bad men! Wait!” When Jack doesn’t grace her with a response, hoping to avoid a confrontation and be on the tram back before _Mr. Bubbles_ shows up, she gasps and screams, “You _are_ one of the bad men! You took away the pretty lady, and now you took away Mister Bubbles! _MISTER BUBBLES!!!!!!!!_ ”

He backtracks real fast then, nearly running to the vent and raising his wrench to bang it against the metal. He scowls at the kid now, all pleasantries forgotten as he looks up at her threateningly. “Kid, shut up! I don’t want trouble. I’m not one of the ‘bad men’, whomever they are, and I don’t know about any ‘pretty lady’. I haven’t seen Mister Bubbles, and I sure as hell didn’t hurt him. Now be quiet for five fucking minutes, and let me be on my way. I’m not here to hurt you.”

Which, of course, shuts her up for about five _seconds,_ during which time Jack gets treated to the absolutely wonderful sound of a Big Daddy revving its drill. He instinctively ducks, which proves to be a good course of action as when he looks up, a bouncer drill is implanted in the wall in the same spot his head had been. He rolls sideways, switches out his wrench for his gun, and prepares for a fight.

The Big Daddy, now drilless, stomps his feet angrily, each of his eyes glowing a dangerous red as he charges at Jack again—but this time, Jack is prepared. He jumps out of the way at the last second, and the brute slams into the wall, creating a sizeable dent. As it recovers, Jack looks to the vent again. The girl is gone—either simply hiding inside the vent out of view or scampered off to another area, he knows not, but at least she’s gone now. If he can just make it to the bathysphere, maybe he can temporarily disable the monster with his traps he had set and get out of here. He doesn’t really want to fight another Big Daddy, especially not right now, but if worst comes to worst…Oh, it’s recovered. Jack loads a round of armor-piercing bullets and fires off a couple shots at the monster, wincing as it howls in pain—not because of it, necessarily, but because in the fairly small and empty space the sound reverberates and makes it much louder than it originally was. He fires as it steadily approaches, backing away until the gun clicks, signaling that it’s time to reload.

The metal golem is almost upon him now, and Jack quickly skips a couple steps back before snapping his fingers and setting the beast alight. As it moans in pain, he takes these precious seconds to quickly reload his bullets and point the gun at the thing before it can recover. Just before the flames extinguish, he shoots a few more bullets into the Big Daddy’s metal hide before scurrying off, well out of its range and hidden from its view behind a newsstand on the far side of the room. He has time for a few quick breaths, and he’s just about to head back out before he hears the screaming.

He has a mini-heart attack, nausea quickly filling his senses, and bile rises in his throat before he manages to swallow it down and shake his head. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to get that horrible sound and even more horrific image out of his head— _focus, focus, you’re about to be killed, you can freak out later_ —wait. Wait wait wait wait wait.

That’s not coming from...he’s not imaging that.

What?

He peeks out from behind his newsstand, still crouching low as he surveys the scene. The little girl is trying desperately to climb back into the vent, her legs kicking viciously underneath her and her tiny hands trying in vain to grab onto the ledge of the opening and pull herself up and out of danger. She’s screaming again, though this time not for her supposed protector—her Mr. Bubbles advances on her, growling and stomping towards the vent, mysteriously recovered drill raised high above his head. Its eyes are still red with rage as it draws nearer, and the girl tries even harder to get away, eventually slipping and tumbling to the ground. Jack almost immediately understands what must have happened (though the reasoning behind it is still unclear). She must have seen “Mr. Bubbles” coming to protect her, and since Big Daddys do not usually turn on their Sisters for no reason, saw no danger in climbing out of her vent and joining it in their fight against him. The only problem with that, obviously, is that for whatever reason, the girl is now a threat, and she is about to die for her foolishness. Jack sighs, realizing what he needs to do if he wants to escape from this situation (mostly) guilt free, and leaps over the newsstand before running towards his certain death.

The Frankenstein turns from trying to gouge the Sister’s spine from her back to Jack as the latter fires off a couple more bullets from his gun before snapping his fingers again, setting the beast alight once more. The Bouncer groans in pain, taking several steps backwards and bumping into the wall again, creating another dent, which gives it some pause as it tries to shake off the dizziness and get back to murdering people. Jack uses the creature’s confusion as a chance to try and grab the Sister while he can.

“Kid, over here!” He snaps his fingers (the non-Plasmid ones) to get her attention. She turns towards him sharply, terror clearly visible on her ghoulish face. He waves a hand towards himself, beckoning the small child closer. “I’m not going to hurt you, but as you may have noticed, Mister Bubbles most definitely will. I’m going to have to hurt it—him—in order to save both our lives. Once this is over and he’s gone, I’ll leave you alone and we won’t have to see each other ever again, okay? But know this—I’m not one of the bad men. I’m going to protect you. I don’t want your ADAM, and I don’t want to hurt you if I don’t have to.” He winces at that last line—he probably could have phrased that better, or not said it at all. Despite his poor wording, the girl takes one look between the already recovering Big Daddy and himself before making it clear where her loyalties lie. She jumps up, scurrying towards Jack faster than he would have thought possible and grabbing his outstretched hand before pulling it behind the man himself. He can hear her whimpering and can feel the wet tears on her cheeks, but he decides to ignore both of those things in favor of marveling at how quickly she decided. He supposes a life and death situation will do that to someone, though.

The Bouncer, noticing that the two of them have paired up and have therefore made its job much easier, roars as it revves up its drill, stomping once before making its way towards the two. The girl screams again, her bass-coated voice nearly popping his eardrums, but he ignores her as he snaps his fingers once more and watches as the beast goes down in a show of flames. Of course, it gets right back up again, and _wow he forgot how hard these things were to kill,_ and so of course now they have to run and hide while Jack refills his EVE. He grabs the girl and rushes her to the newsstand from before, and they both lie in wait as Jack fumbles through his satchel for an EVE hypo. “Shit, there had better be one in here,” he grumbles to himself after a few seconds of fruitless searching. His search is only made more frantic by the rumbling of the Big Daddy not too far away. He finally finds what he’s looking for, and without a second thought, he plunges the needle into his forearm, barely wincing at the pain. The Little Sister, however, is another story—her eyes grow wide as she watches him, and as he shuts his eyes, she starts to freak out, shaking his shoulder in a vain attempt to revive him. After about 10 seconds of this, Jack has recovered from the sudden wave of nausea he gets from the needles and grabs her wrists, effectively stopping her.

“Don’t do that,” he tells her. “I’m fine. I just get a bit sick whenever I use that stuff. Wait here.”

He pokes his head out from behind the newsstand, locating the Big Daddy before switching to Winter Blast and pointing a finger at it. Its frame almost immediately freezes over, and Jack takes the opportunity to stand whilst he reaches for his shotgun and loads it with Electric Buck. He releases another wave of ice onto the golem before shooting it thrice and ignoring the kid’s scream when the beast completely shatters. He hadn’t expected that, he’ll admit—Big Daddys are usually too tough to be shattered by Winter Blast, but he’s glad that he doesn’t have to worry about it getting back up again. After two rounds of armor-piercing bullets, three fire hazards, half a round of Electric Buck, and two separate instances in which you’ve been thrown into a wall, you have to know when to quit, after all.

He sighs, looking down at the girl tucked away behind him. She had grabbed his arm again and is still clutching it tightly against her chest, looking up at him and sniffling. Other than that, though, she seems to mostly be okay. “Well, I’ve certainly been in worse fights, and with smaller predators, too. Actually, that was pretty  easy. He didn’t put up much of a fight, did he. So much for your Mist—eh, for your Big Daddy. Sorry about that, though. I don’t know why he went after you like that...but, the important thing is, he’s gone now and you can go back to your hidey-hole. That’s what you girls call them, right?”

The girl doesn’t say anything, but she does nod, which Jack is going to take as a good sign. He puts his weapons away and hoists the little girl onto his hip, walking back to the vent and holding her in front of it so she can climb back in. She doesn’t move.

“Kid. The monster’s gone, you can go back to...doing whatever you were doing before. I’ll be on my way, and you’ll never see me again, just like we agreed. Okay?” He tries to sort of force her into the vent—because hey, he really needs to get going and he can’t wait forever, okay?—but surprisingly, he is met with quite a bit of resistance. The girl struggles against the vent, kicking it away and positioning herself back on Jack’s hip. She throws her arms around his neck and glares at him, as if daring him to argue. She’s clearly never heard of him, then.

“No. I’m staying with you.”

“... _What?_ ”

“I’m staying with you,” she repeats, and points a finger at his face as if that would somehow get her point across clearer. He feels like he should tell her that he perfectly understands what she means, except that he doesn’t, and so therefore that would be a lie and then where would they be? So instead, he meets her excited but determined stare with a blank and uncomprehending one of his own. He tries to think of something to say, perhaps explains why she couldn’t come along or maybe in gentle terms why he _absolutely does not want her along,_ but the only thing that comes to mind is:

“No.”

“Yes,” she refutes, as if just because she responded with an antonym that means he can’t possibly rebuff her and so she’s going to get to come along. “You saved me from the bad monster, and you promised to protect me. So I want to go with you.”

“...I only...I meant _during the fight,_ kid. I never promised to protect you at all after that. You and I both agreed to go our separate ways after—”

“I didn’t agree to anything! I wanna come, and so I’ll come. You can’t make me leave.”

“Ahh, kid,” he groans, tearing his gaze away from her and looking around for some place to set her down without her protesting. “Well, you certainly changed loyalties quick, didn’t you? First you want Mister Bubbles to kill me, and now you want to come with me and refuse to let me leave. You don’t even know me, and you have no clue what I want or where I’m going. You’re better off without me, trust me—you can go back into your vent, and you can—I don’t know—”

The girl actually looks thoughtful at that, frowning as she looks at something past Jack. But then, apparently, her resolve hardens, and she shakes her head almost violently. “Nuh-uh. I’m gonna stay with you. The bad men always want to hurt but Mr. Bubbles saved me. But  _then_ Mr. Bubbles tried to hurt me too, but he’s gone and he can’t save me anymore. but then _you_ saved me from Mr. B, and so I’m going with you.”

Okay, that’s actually a fair point. But the kid had survived this long on her own, hadn’t she? Surely if he just left her here, despite her protests and against her will, she’d be perfectly fine. This particular area of the department store looks as though it hasn’t been passed through by anyone, splicer or otherwise, in years. Surely she’d be okay here. But...on the other hand. On the other hand, he _had_ saved her life, and so now she felt perhaps indebted to him to do the same, subconsciously or not. Besides, he did sort of murder a bunch of her kind before seeing the light of reason; he kind of owes it to Tenenbaum to look after her, even if she would never know about it and having her along would be much more of a burden than he’d like. Who knows, though—perhaps she would prove to be useful. Having a small person who can fit into all kinds of nooks and crannies and Little Sister vents...now that _would_ be _very_ useful. Besides, if all goes according to plan, he won’t be stuck with her long—get through the rubble and into the store itself, find a bathysphere, and hop on the next ride to the surface. He does briefly consider telling her _no_ again and leaving her here, but he’s not too sure he’ll be able to shake her, or that there isn’t another Big Daddy around for her to call. Finally, he sighs, putting the girl down despite her best efforts and silencing her with a finger to his lips before she can start shrieking.   
  
“Alright, listen up.” He crouches and rests on his hind legs so he’s at eye level with her. Once he’s sure he’s got her full attention, and that she’s not going to start talking over him once he speaks, he continues. “You can come with me. I need to get out of here, and I have a plan to do so...even though it hasn’t really worked out so far...but nevermind that. I need to get through that gate and over that gap to get to the next stage of my plan. Beyond those places there’s a department store, where I’ll hopefully be able to get a bathysphere to take me to the surface. If you come with me, you need to stay with me at all times, you need to do what I tell you to do, and you need to stay out of the way if I have to fight any splic—bad men. I’ll take you with me, but only if you help and follow orders. Do you understand?”

A wary nod. Then, hesitantly, “...What’s a bathysphere?”

“It’s, ah...it’s like a boat. I’m going to get us a boat that will take us to the surface. Out of Rapture, to...we’re…” Damnit, what did the kids call it again? He racks his brain trying to think of the word, but fortunately the kid seems to get his meaning, eyes widening with enthusiasm.

“Lilly-Poppy?”

He claps his hands together, pointing them at her in triumph as she grins. “Yes, exactly! We’re going to Lilly-Poppy, I guess. In a boat, that we will get from inside there.” He points to the caved-in tunnel, and watches as her face falls and she frowns deeply.

“We can’t go in there. There’s too many rocks in the entrance.”

“Exactly. Which is why we need to find another way in.” 

The girl contemplates this for a moment, her brow scrunched up and her mouth twisted as if trying desperately to remember something on the tip of her tongue. After a minute or so of this, she claps her hands together, startling Jack—but she doesn’t seem to notice, jumping up and down as she grabs his face, forcing him to look at her. “I know a way! I know a way! We have to go to...to Art...Arteemuse? I don’t know how to say it, but Papa Suchong lives there. That will get us inside the store.”

“Artemis Suites?”

“Yes, that’s the place!”

He makes to stand up, removing the child’s hands from his face and mulling this bit of information over. “That’s...no, wait, that can’t be right. I’ve already been there, before here—I spent a long time looking for other ways out and I didn’t see any, and there’s only one bathysphere port for the whole area of Olympus Heights, which was in Apollo Square, not Artemis Suites.” He says this more to himself than to his diminutive companion, but she hears anyways and shakes her head, her blond ponytail swinging furiously behind her.

“Nope. There’s one for the Arteemuse Sweets. I ‘member it, but it’s hidden. That’ll take us here again, but to another part. We have to go there, Mister! Wait, what’s your name again?”

Artemis Suites...Artemis Suites. Where “Papa Suchong” lived. Is she talking about the area itself, or his lab? Maybe his apartment? Perhaps she’s simply talking out of her ass, either due to the ADAM induced madness or her desperation to tag along. Still, it’s better than nothing, and a whole lot more than he’s got right now, so he nods and holds out a hand to his new partner. It occurs to him then that he’ll probably have to call her something other than “kid” or “girl”, but whether she remembers her own name or not is anyone’s guess. He should probably ask though, just to be safe. “I’m Jack. You can call me ‘Mister Jack’, if that makes you happy. I don’t particularly care, as long as you’re quiet. Do you have a name?

She reaches up and takes his hand with both of hers, shaking it eagerly as she grins that ghastly grin of hers once more. He really wishes she’d stop that—it unnerves him far more than it should, and it’s not even on the Top Ten list of disturbing shit he’s seen. “I’m Sally,” she tells him, obviously pleased that he’s given up.

Sally...that’s a nice name, if simple. Easy to say, too—only two syllables, so no need to shorten it with a nickname. Nicknames get you attached to other people, and other people to you. The last thing Jack Ryan needs right now is to get attached. Subconsciously, though, as he begins to walk back to the tram with her in tow, he wonders if it’s already too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a couple of younger siblings, around Sally's age, and I babysit for money, so simply put I'm around kids a lot. I don't mean to say that I'm the world's writing expert on children, I'm merely trying to say that I'm basing Sally's personality and speech patterns based on the kids I've met. I also figured that the ADAM in her system, which is a performance enhancing drug, would have maybe bolstered her IQ a bit and made her a bit smarter (and therefore more eloquent) than your average toddler. Not exactly an adult in a kid's body, but just more articulate. I picture Sally around 7ish or so, and I tried to be as true as I could, but please let me know your thoughts on it. Thanks for reading, and I think this is it for now until I finish AUA.


	4. Chapter 4

They leg it on back to the bathysphere—well,  _he_  legs it. She, on the other hand, has apparently decided that walking was for peasants, and sits happily upon his already aching hip as she chatters on about this and that. Once they arrive at the station, he sets her down again, disabling the traps he'd set before leading her into the bathysphere. He looks for the previously unseen Artemis Suites bathysphere dock, but after finding it unlit and his attempts to select it as a destination are found useless, he selects Apollo Square instead. He sighs, realizing that he's resigning himself, yet again, to another long trek through an area riddled with dangerous adversaries that are eager to rip his face off; and now that he has a Little Sister, he's going to have to watch out for her, too. He makes a mental note not to cure her until they're safe on the surface—the last thing he needs is her getting gutted while he's not paying attention. As long as she's still in her current state, any damage she takes will heal automatically, and she's practically invisible unless Jack decides to harvest her, which he's not planning on doing. As the bathysphere descends, and they both sit down to wait, he notes that the lighting in here is much better, and decides to get a good look at his new companion.

Unlike the other Sisters he'd met, she is not dressed in a pink, blue, yellow, or green pinafore—instead, hers is a dusty black, with a red sash and red buttons on the front. The rest of her, however, looks fairly normal—her hair, in true Gatherer fashion, is pulled back and high and tied with a red bow to match her clothing, and her eyes are the dull yellow of the rest of her kind, the pupil, iris, and sclera still somewhat visible. Her skin is a dull grey, and her arms and legs have small purple patches here and there that Jack takes to be bruises. This particular girl, Sally, seems a tad more mature than he would have thought—though, she does look a bit older than the rest he'd seen, and he knew the girls were aged from 5 to 10 or so. He'll have to ask her about her age, but it's more than likely she won't remember—hell, he's surprised she even remembers her name.

"How old are you, Sally? Do you remember?"

Sally looks up from where she had been fiddling with her dress, popping one of the buttons off and clutching it in her hand. She thinks on that question for a moment, her brow scrunched up and her mouth twisted, like before. Jack takes this to mean that she's thinking about it, and so patiently waits for her to come up with the answer. Finally, she sighs, defeated. "I don't 'member, Mister Jack. Can I be six? I like the number six. It's a good number. Six, six, six, six, six, six—" and so she continues for the rest of the journey, which thankfully lasts only a few more moments, as Jack can already see Olympus Heights up ahead. Oddly enough, though, he's not annoyed by her antics—yet. He figures it'll happen sooner or later, though, and so reminds himself that getting attached is most definitely  _not_ in the cards, especially considering that as soon as he gets topside he's planning on ditching—er,  _dropping her off_ —at the first orphanage he comes across.

"We're here," he announces, cutting her off as the bathysphere starts to rise in preparation for docking. Sally  _oohs_ and jumps up from her seat, almost immediately being knocked back on her rear as the bathysphere sways violently. "I wouldn't recommend standing up while this thing is getting ready to pull into the dock," he mentions as she sits up, confused. "In fact, I wouldn't recommend or doing anything less than holding on for dear life until the craft settles, because the last time someone moved around the cabin while this thing was acting up, he fell over and nearly cracked his skull open on that edge over there."

"How do you know that?"

"Take a wild guess."

They slide into the port, and only after Jack stands up and moves towards the door does Sally unclutch her hands from the seats and warily follow him out. She grabs onto the sleeve of his sweater, which throws him off a bit, but seeing as A) she seems to have no intention of letting go anytime soon and B) it's not getting in his way yet, he decides to let her have this one. He grabs his pistol, switching the armor-piercing bullets for the anti-personnel, and heads for the bulkhead, only to be hindered by the small child tugging desperately at his sweater.

"Where are you going?"

Jack looks at her curiously, motioning to the SECURIS door. "Well, that's the way to Artemis Suites, isn't it? You said we'd find the answer in Suchong's labs. We're heading there now; it's through that door."

She looks up at him, tilting her head curiously. He wonders if she's beginning to reconsider their little arrangement yet, but he doubts it—the girl seems far too trusting for that, which will probably end badly for her, but he'll do his best. "That's not Arteemuse Sweets."

"It's a part of this place," he explains impatiently, tugging his sweater away—of course, she grabs it right back, but it's the thought that counts. She scowls up at him, her round face adorably contorted into the expression. "We have to go through here to get to Artemis Suites, and then we'll find this bathysphere port that you're so sure about. You're positive this thing will take us to the department store?"

She blinks, confused, and Jack sighs, beginning to kneel, but then she perks up, rolling back and forward on the balls of her feet as she nods. "Yep! It'll take us back to the store, but not the same place that we were before. That's where we're going to get our boat, right?"

"Right," he says, relieved that she understands at least part of what's going on. He's heard that kids were way smarter than the media and books made them out to be, and he's glad that that's proving true so far. He straightens again and grabs the kid's hand in his own, pulling her behind him. "Now, listen, there are going to be some bad men up ahead, and they'll want to hurt you. All you need to do is stay behind me and out of sight, because if they catch you I might not be able to get to you quickly. Can you do that?"

She nods, looking up at him again with those haunted golden eyes. Jack swallows down the uneasy feeling he gets by even glancing at them and grips her tight, leading them through the Metro station. They come to a bulkhead leading into a small room, which if his memory serves him correctly then leads to an elevator that will take them to the main area. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he notices the dead splicer slumped against the model of Rapture standing in the middle of the room, but after he reminds himself that it is in fact very dead (as he had seen it his first time around), he drags the kid around it and enters another small area, in which he's pleased to see that his memory didn't fail him. He presses the button for the elevator, and as they wait for it to descend, Sally tugs on his hand.

"Yes?"

"What happens if the boat isn't where it's supposed to be?"

"I guess we'll have to find another way out, then. I'd rather not think about it, truth be told—I've had enough trouble as it is."

She's quiet for a moment, as if contemplating the weight of his words. Her face, as expected by now, is scrunched in concentration. Jack doesn't disturb her, instead pondering the question himself. "I don't like that answer," she decides finally, breaking him out of his thoughts.

He huffs a dry laugh, devoid of humor. "Yeah, me neither."

The elevator  _dings,_  signaling its arrival and the end of their almost-conversation, and Jack and the two unlikely partners step on. It's a tight squeeze, but they manage, with the girl hugging his legs tightly as she watches the door closes. As Sally marvels at the strange contraption, and how quickly it shuts itself and begins to rise, Jack is lost in his own mind, pondering the question posed to him by the child.

What  _will_ they do if the bathyspheres aren't where they're supposed to be? Perhaps the store had been ransacked, vandalized by crazy splicers or a vengeful Ryan or Fontaine. Perhaps they had all simply been bought up and there were none left. Perhaps the store itself was barricaded off, or caved in, or flooded, or completely destroyed, or otherwise inaccessible. How would they get out of Rapture then? They can't just  _swim_  to the surface—okay, maybe  _she_ could, somehow (he has no real idea about the abilities of the Little Sisters, after all) but  _he_  sure as hell couldn't, and if he doesn't leave, neither does the girl. No, a bathysphere is their only option, and there  _has_ to be another one  _somewhere_ in this godforsaken hellhole of a city. That, of course, brings up a whole new set of questions, such as if they  _do_ manage to find a bathysphere, how are they going to get it in the water? Jack is sure that Little Sisters have many amazing abilities, but he doubts very highly that super-strength is one of them. There must be some sort of mechanism that helps to transfer the things into the water—all he has to do is find it and figure out how it works. Of course, he also doubts that the bathysphere store is anywhere near the open water, but making up plans ten seconds before they're needed has always been a talent of his. He pushes the problem to the back of his mind for now as the elevator  _dings_ once more, signaling their arrival. Sally untangles herself from his legs and grabs his hand again, pulling him out of the enclosed space eagerly.

"Hey, unless you know the way, stay behind me. The last thing I need is to track you down because you decided to get cocky and run ahead. By the way, if you do get lost and I can't find you, I don't have any reservations about leaving you behind." Okay, so that last line may have been kind of a lie—even  _he's_ not  _that_ heartless—but if she keeps tugging on his hand like that, he's going to lose  _something_ —whether that something is his hand or the kid is entirely up to her. Having the constant feeling of someone trying to pull your arm out of its socket is a bit distracting, and he doesn't need to be distracted right now. He gives her a stern look as she looks up at him, which slows her down but doesn't stop her, as she continues to try and dislocate his arm.

"You're not very nice, Mister Jack," Sally says pointedly, not hiding her dissatisfaction with his tone. Jack resists the urge to snort at the indignance in hers. "I mean it! You said you would protect me," she whines, actually stamping her foot.

"I did, and I will, but I don't have to be nice about it," he reminds her, quirking an eyebrow. He gets a pout in return, but she stops complaining so he counts it as a win in his favor.

They continue on, climbing the steps leading out of the area and heading back the back he came through, avoiding Splicers and Big Daddys alike as they pass by the destroyed Metro for someplace called Athena's Glory and past a security camera that Sally very nearly tips off before Jack hauls her out of sight. They end up behind the large gallows that take up most of what he assumes used to be the square, and as Sally murmurs in confusion Jack takes a minute to make sure that there are no nasty surprises waiting for them to let their guard down. Once he's satisfied, he picks Sally up, much to her delight—though he's only doing it so that her bare feet won't get cut on the various pieces of sharp garbage that's been discarded here. He knows that if she does get injured the ADAM in her system will heal her right up, but it won't stop her from bitching for the two point zero seconds that it's going to hurt. She rides on his hip with her hands around his neck as they make their way past the gallows and into the area leading to the rest of Olympus Heights, stopping only to read the sign and tiptoe their way through various heaps of trash. Normally, he would go ahead and step right through them, but they've earned a bad reputation for having unexpected surprises in them and Jack doesn't want to drop the kid. They do come across a Splicer near the end of the trail, lurking around the exit gates, but a quick snap of Jack's fingers dispatches him quickly while Sally looks on in awe.

"Marshmallows," she whispers in delight as they make their way past his charred corpse. He doesn't bother asking, knowing that the answer he gets will be more confusing than the word itself. This isn't the first time she's said something completely out of left field and it won't be the last either, and if Jack keeps pestering her with questions then they're never going to make it.

They go through the gates and down the steps, passing the Vita-Chamber and going into the chamber that houses the bulkhead to the actual Olympus Heights. He has to set Sally down for a second here, as he needs both hands to operate it, and although she complains she stands next to him obligingly as he works the door open. Once through, he picks her up again and they continue.

A Big Daddy is heard, groaning and hauling itself forward bit by bit. Its steps shake the ground as it passes them, and although Sally looks after it longingly, she doesn't say a word to call it. It would appear that she remembers what happened last time she called to one for help.

_Do Little Sisters even_ _ **have**_ _memories?_ Jack wonders as he scans the areas for any immediate threats. He thinks he hears a Splicer or two not far off, but unless they're Houdini's then he can handle them while still holding onto the girl.  _I mean, most of them probably don't remember anything prior to being turned, which is fair. But what about once they're Sisters? Do they form new memories from their new experiences? Or do they make up new ones to replace the old ones? Do they even know what they're doing or what they are, or anything about their situation? Do they think about_ _ **anything?**_

"I think about cats sometimes," Sally admits, out of the blue. "I've never seen one, but I think they're probably cute. Better than dogs. Dogs are loud. Always yelling at something..." At Jack's utterly dumbfounded look, she elaborates, "You were talking out loud. I don't think you should do that—the bad men could find us that way, and then we'd be dead. I think the whole point of getting out of the bad place is to  _not_ be dead, so that wouldn't work out."

Jack laughs at that before he can stop himself. He shakes his head, marveling at the sheer innocence of this incredibly broken child, two things that starkly contrast in the real world but fit perfectly here in Rapture. He manages to close his still-open mouth, and readjusts his grip on her as he surveys the area before him. From his current position he can see the sign for Mercury Suites, and one of the aforementioned Splicers lurking around the entrance. He can also see a Circus of Values right beside the entrance, and from the looks of it it hasn't been vandalized so that would be a good place to stock up on supplies—including frag grenades and EVE. Hooked up on the wall not ten feet away is a health station, miraculously untouched.

After finding nothing else in his immediate vicinity, he makes his way over to it and sets the kid down before patching himself up from the earlier fight with the Big Daddy. The girl doesn't seem to fancy the sight of a needle burying itself in her new friend's arm, and shifts unwarily next to him as he closes his eyes to combat the oncoming wave of nausea he gets from using any kind of needle. She'd acted the same way when he'd plunged the EVE needle into his arm during the Big Daddy fight, though he hadn't really noticed because of the situation. It occurs to him a moment later that perhaps she's not scared of the needle itself but what she's seen needles do—needles mean ADAM, and ADAM means crazy, and crazy means  _trying to kill me._ He turns to her after the nausea retreats and tries to smile reassuringly, but if anything that makes her more skittish. She backs away a couple of steps, but after Jack makes no move to gut her, she sighs and skips back to him, warily reaching a hand out for his arm. In a show of good faith, he holds it out to her.

"Don't need to worry," he tells her as she grabs it and uses it to sort of swing towards him. "I'm not going to turn into one of the bad men all of a sudden. I don't want your ADAM, but I do want to get out of here, and apparently you know the way out, which I don't. I'm not getting rid of my only hope of getting out of this graveyard. Now, let's get to Artemis Suites—the sooner we get into that department store the better." He steps away from the machine, eyeing it before ultimately deciding against hacking it—the memory of what happened last time is still quite fresh in his mind. He heads over to the entrance to Mercury Suites, hoping that his memory isn't as shit as he thinks it is and equipping his Winter Blast Plasmid.

Sally, of course, tags along, holding onto his sweater sleeve almost reverently. "Are we in a rush?"

"Not really, no."

"Then why do we have to get there soon? The boat is still going to be waiting for us, right?"

"Sure. Waiting for us, or someone else to take it."

"... _Oh._ So we have to get there first?"

"Exactly." Thank God for this kid—she catches on quick and she's demonstrated that she's anything but stupid. Naive, perhaps, but not stupid. If he  _had_ to get stuck with some kid for an escape attempt, he's glad it's her.

* * *

Jack takes care of the Splicer before they even reach the entrance, freezing him solid before shattering the ice with a couple of bullets. They make their way through the destroyed tram area before coming upon the entrance to the place itself, which if Jack's memory serves him correct is full of turrets, security cameras, and Splicers. He had hacked several machines when he had first come through here, but he's going to guess that whatever had fucked with his machines in the Proving Grounds and Olympus Heights on his first go-round also fucked with the machines here. He's going to have to tread carefully.

He grabs Sally and pulls her behind him, making sure that she knows to stay out of sight before continuing onwards. He hears another Big Daddy somewhere close by, but doesn't bother trying to figure out where it came from—as long as they stay out of each other's way, they'll do just fine. He does briefly worry about the kid; she has, after all, been mentally programmed to recognize those iron giants to be her knight in rusty, dented armor—but given her reaction to the last one he doesn't think he needs to worry about that very much. They proceed forward, making their way into the main area, where the elevator leading to Fontaine's penthouse still stands, in the stone column that stands in the middle of the room. The stairs winding around it are still there, with some steps missing but otherwise mostly intact. If they want to get up there, Sally will have to climb on Jack's back, something that would no doubt please the child but Jack's back would hate him for.

Everything else still looks the same; the tree with the dead woman hanging from it is still there, with the unhacked security camera sweeping the area to the left of the column and the Circus of Values against the wall opposite it. He knows that beyond that wall is the apartment of Dr. Yi Suchong, and decides to ask the Little Sister a very important question.

"Sally, when you said 'where Papa Suchong lives,' did you mean his home or his clinic?"

"...Uhh. I'm not sure. He was there whenever I went there, I 'member that. The pretty lady was there, too...wait! Wait, I 'member! The clinic!" She seems very pleased with herself for remembering, and Jack is relieved that she does, but he has to make sure. After she's done jumping up and down he places a hand on her shoulder and sits on his hind legs so that he's at eye level with her.

"Are you absolutely sure about that? I don't want to go all the way there just to have to come back..."

"No, it's there!" she insists, and the urgent tone in her voice is enough to convince him more than anything else. But despite this, she continues, and what she says next both confuses and mystifies him. "I swear, I 'member. The bad man took the pretty lady there through the...the boat thing. The one that we want to get. They went to the Arteemuse Sweets dock, and dropped her off so she could get to the clinic. I don't think she was supposed to be there, though, so she had to do it secret. That's why they took the other dock. If she got inside from there, there has to be a way back, right? Two ways." She holds up two fingers for emphasis.

"Right, he says, filing away the bit about the 'pretty lady' away for later. Who  _was_ this woman? He had originally though her to be a delusion, nothing more than an imaginary friend of sorts that the girl had conjured up in her ADAM-induced madness. But that bit of information the girl had just shared...that sounded...real? Real and also very suspicious. What had she been doing in the clinic, and what would Splicers want with her? Perhaps this woman was not as fictitious as he had first believed—maybe it was a relative of Sally's, who had tried to get her back only to be killed by Splicers. It could be that she had bargained with some Splicers to get her daughter/sister/niece back—perhaps they had wanted something out of the clinic, and sent her to fetch it. She was probably discarded of as soon as she had, by the same people. From what little Sally has told him about her, that would seem likely...but he'll never know. He doesn't want to.

Still…

* * *

"Who is this 'pretty lady' you keep going on about?" he finally asks, once they're all the way back in Apollo Square. Up until now, he had mulled what little he had been told about her in his head, trying to figure out all the facts and the story. But his curiosity could no longer be contained, and so even though he knew he'd regret it, he had to ask.

"I'm not sure. I mean, I don't know her name or anything. Just that she tried to save me and the bad men killed her. I don't know why they did that, or why she wanted to help me. She wasn't one of the bad men, though. She didn't look ugly like them, and she didn't want my ADAM—she was very pretty, like an angel. They said they'd let her and me go if she got something for them, but they killed her instead."

Well, that answers one of his previous questions—Little Sisters can in fact remember things that have happened to them since Sisterhood. Time to test that theory a little further. "Do you remember the bad men?"

"Not really. They all wore funny animal faces, like rabbits and stuff. I think there was a tiger and a fox too. There were a couple of clowns. Some didn't wear any faces, just their normal ones. There was one bad man with a funny voice—I didn't know a lot of what he said, but the pretty lady seemed to know. She didn't like him. I don't like him either. I think he was in charge."

"I see," he says, and he does, sort of. Clearly, the bad men  _were_ in fact Splicers, like he'd expected, and the 'pretty lady' wasn't. The kid didn't seem to know her, though, but just because she doesn't remember doesn't mean that the possibility of her being a relative is canceled out. He keeps that one on the table, figuring it the most likely identity of the stranger. After all, who in their right mind would want to recuse some strange little kid that they don't even know, right? "Do you remember what they wanted the pretty lady to get for them?"

She nods, her ponytail bobbing furiously with the movement. Her face in contorted into a confused frown, and she tightens her grip around his neck as she adjusts herself on his hip. She looks down at the garbage piles that they're tiptoeing around for a moment before speaking up again. "What's an  _ace in the hole?_ "

His grip slackens  _just_ enough for the kid to slip out of his grasp and hit the unforgiving concrete below, but she somehow manages to tighten her grip on his neck and lock her legs around his waist just in time to avoid that fate. She glowers at him, hissing, "Hey, you could have dropped me! Not nice!" but for once he doesn't notice her whining, too caught up in the sudden, horrifying realization that….that….

_I remember when me and the Kraut put you in that sub. You were...no more than two. You were my_ _ **ace in the hole**_ …

_Betrayal, kid. Life ain't strictly business._

He had called him his  _ace in the hole,_ hadn't he? Jack was Fontaine's slight against Ryan and the ultimate weapon which he had planned to use against him; him and anyone who stood in his way to the throne of Rapture. To Frank Fontaine Jack was merely a marionette doll whom he controlled, whose strings he could manipulate any way he pleased, simply because he had the misfortune of being Ryan's child. Jack had taken back control and cut those strings, freeing himself from Fontaine but damning himself to Rapture in the process. Fontaine had sent him to kill, and Tenenbaum had left him to die. She had provided him with the scissors, and he had cut the strings, not realizing that Fontaine's marionette doll was useless without them.

The phrase still echoes in his skull, repeating itself over and over again like a mantra. Jack clenches his eyes shut as if that would somehow drown out the sound, clutching the child that he absentmindedly notices is still holding onto him tightly. She's saying something, probably yelling at him to get his head out of his ass, but he can't hear her—all he can hear is—

_Would you kindly? Would you kindly? Would you kindly? Would you kindly? Would you kindly_ —

" _Would you kindly….powerful phrase. Familiar phrase? Was there_ _ **really**_   _a family? Did that airplane crash...or was it_ _ **hijacked?**_   _Forced down. Forced down by something_ _ **less**_   _than a man, something bred to sleepwalk through life until they are activated by a simple phrase, spoken by their_ _ **kindly**_   _master…"_

"No."

No. He was  _nobody's_  puppet,  _nobody's_ doll on four strings. Nobody is left alive in this broken hell to control him, and he sure as hell wouldn't let them even if they were. He may not technically be human—no soul, morality, or anything else that modern-day philosophers would consider "essential to the essence of man" or whatever bullshit they liked to spew. It doesn't matter anyways. What matters is that he's here, he's alive, and nobody is using him for anything anymore. His existential crisis practically over, he turns his attention to the more pressing matter at hand: who  _was_ this woman? And  _why?_

Why did she come to Sally's rescue, why did she agree to work for Atlas—not Fontaine, Atlas; the man with the funny voice, fake as it was. Who was she to the girl? Did she even know what she was retrieving or for whom she was retrieving it for? Did she even  _know_ Sally? Or was she was just some random stranger that walked in and decided to fulfill her good deed for the day? He has so many questions and a pressing need to have them answered fast as possible—but any one who might know the identity of this woman or her motives are either long dead, spliced to hell, or currently riding on his hip shouting into his ear. Which reminds him…

"Will you  _stop_ yelling into my ear? I swear to God I'm about to drop you and leave you," he threatens, turning his head to glare at the girl in question. For a second he debates questioning the girl further about this mystery woman but decides against it, seeing as A) she had probably already told him all she knows and B) she didn't even remember her own age, so he doubts she remembers much else about her past. He'll have to make do for now.

Sally snaps her head to look at him when she hears his voice, her golden eyes looking up at her companion with clear worry written across her face. "What happened to you, Mister Jack? You almost fell over and dropped me, and you started to cry a bit. Are you okay?"

"I…" Sure enough, surprisingly, he can feel tears pricking the corners of his eyes, and he'd wipe them away if he could reach them. Instead he elects to ignore them in favor of hefting the little girl on his hip again, making sure both of their grips are tight before continuing down Apollo square and onto Artemis Suites. He doesn't bother to answer her question.


	5. Chapter 5

They reach the clinic soon enough, though Jack really has no concept of time down here since all of the clocks stopped working ages ago and he himself isn't wearing any sort of timepiece. Sally makes a note to mention that she thinks it's been about 5 hours, but given the context and who it's coming from he does his best to ignore her. The automatic door granting entrance to the clinic is stuck, the metal track underneath the door mysteriously jammed, so Jack has to use brute force and another crowbar to pry it open. It ends up flying off its hinges and banging against the wall next to it, scaring the living daylights out of Sally and causing Jack to wince at the noise. He grabs the kid's hand as she dashes behind him, fearing for her life and refusing to be placated by Jack's "empty" promises. To each their own, he supposes, and leads her inside.

The inside looks more or less the same from when Jack was here last—a few more dead bodies, maybe, and some more furniture scorched or overturned, but other than that he deems it safe enough. Carefully, he leads her through the abandoned area, keeping her behind him until she decides that she's not scared anymore. She actually lets go of his hand in favor of wandering a bit in front of him, which Jack counts as a definite improvement.

Just as they're about to reach the lab itself, they turn the corner, and Sally stops dead, staring at the wall ahead. He stops, too, just in case she's hearing something or she's noticed something important. When she doesn't move for several moments, Jack hesitantly taps her shoulder, wondering what's up. She starts suddenly, looking around as if she didn't know where she was, but then her eyes settle on Jack and that creepy smile is back on her face—thought there is...something  _off_ about it now.

"Kid, what the hell are you doing?"

She points to the wall in front of her, as if that alone would answer any and all questions he has. She still doesn't say anything for a while.

"...I don't understand," he sighs finally, crouching to be at eye level with her.

She doesn't acknowledge him; instead she walks up to the wall, places her hands on it, and shoves it hard, as if she were trying to break through the wall. When that proves unsuccessful, she tries kicking it, and then finally she tries punching it, all to no avail. She finally steps back, sighing in defeat. At Jack's extremely puzzled look, she shakes her head, pointing. "The pretty lady is in there," she explains. "There's a hallway behind the wall. The bad men killed her in the room, but they let me go. I don't know why. I tried to make her better, but she wouldn't wake up, so I had to leave her."

"I." Well, fuck, what is he supposed to say to that? On one hand, if he blows up that wall he could maybe find out some answers—maybe not the ones he wants or the ones he necessarily needs but some answers nonetheless. Of course he doesn't expect her to be alive back there—the only thing he'd find of her are parts of her corpse, and he doubts that even in Rapture corpses can talk. On the  _other_ hand, he doesn't really have time to chase what may or may not be a false lead, and although he hasn't quite come to terms with his own past yet, he doubts this "pretty lady" can do much for him. Who knows, maybe she was as much an unwilling participant as he was. It doesn't matter now—she's dead, he's not, and he's got shit to do. He stands up again, heading towards the hallway leading to the clinic.

"Come on, Sally," he calls, when she doesn't follow. "We have to find a way into that department store. I...I understand that she was...a friend of yours. I'm...sorry? That you lost her? Even though you don't know who she is. But...eh…" It occurs to Jack then, as Sally turns to him and tilts her head in a curious manner and an expression on her face equivalent to "are you fucking serious right now", that he is absolute shit at sympathizing. Oh well, no turning back now—might as well finish what he started. "Look, I'm sorry that your friend died. She sounds nice, and I'm sure she was a swell madame. But we don't have time to blow up the wall and rediscover her dead body. We need to get to that department store and get our bathysphere as soon as possible, because although I kind of doubt it, there might be other contenders vying for the same thing. You probably don't understand anything I just said, so let me break it down for you: we're on a tight schedule here and we need to get going. We don't have time to linger. Come on, or I'm leaving you here." Harsh? Maybe. But effective? Judging by the way she gives the wall one final, longing glance before scurrying to catch up with him, he's going to say yes.

Fortunately for them, the door leading to Suchong's actual lab isn't blocked or stuck, and Jack easily pushes it open as Sally darts into the room, looking at anything and everything at once. He knows from previous experience that this place is rather small and he'll be able to see her wherever she goes, so he lets her stretch her legs a bit and knock over some of the old bastard's equipment. She shatters several beakers and knocks over many piles of notes before Jack beckons her back.

"While you were busy breaking things, I was looking for any sort of secret passageway or door," he explains, and the kid nods to show that she understands. Good. "I'm pretty sure I found one. See, over there," and he points to the very back of the lab, where a counter topped with various bottles, beakers, and liquids runs along the width of the wall. He points to a particular section, behind the fridge and the file cabinet, where it looks like the wall has miraculously popped out from its section. "You have to look at it from a certain angle to even notice something's wrong, but once you see it it's incredibly obvious. It's behind the fridge and the file cabinet, so if we just move that then I'm sure there's some sort of opening back there. It might be a tight fight but we'll manage."

Sally nods, running over to where the file cabinet stands against the wall and beginning to push long before Jack makes his way over there. She doesn't move it by much, of course, what with her tiny feet slipping against the blood covered floor and her arms too wiry to actually be of use here. With her much more capable companion's help, the two of them push back both the cabinet and the fridge to reveal a small sliver of space that should be big enough for both of them to shimmy through. Sally looks up at Jack, waiting for his signal, something that confuses but pleases Jack.

"Let me go through first," he says, gently pushing her to one side and angling his body in such a way that he can just barely manage to squeeze through. As soon as he's clear, he takes in his surroundings, pistol out and ready to be used if needed. He starts when he realizes that although he is definitely still in Suchong's labs (albeit a secret, sectioned off area), this place looks much cleaner and much less dilapidated than the rest of it—hell, even the rest of what he'd seen of Rapture. The tiles on the floor are chipped and caked with dust, and some have broken off completely, but the floor is otherwise relatively clean and there are no mysterious stains to be seen. It's also a very dull white, bordering on gray—whether that is because of the dust or it is simply their actual color is a mystery Jack has no interest in solving; but it  _is_  white, not red, so he counts that as a bonus. He looks to his left, and notes with a small hint of surprise that there is a boarded up window looking out into the hallway leading into the clinic. Whoever did that must not have cared very much about covering it up though, because he can still clearly see out of it.

Directly in front of him is an automatic door, very unlike the ones he's used to seeing around Rapture, with a large, circular window allowing him to bypass the door and look inside. It's very poorly lit, and he can't make out much more other than there's some kind of hallway beyond, but the door seems to be stuck and he doesn't have a crowbar to pry it open. He finally notices that there's a hallway almost directly to his right, and after venturing down a bit (just a couple steps, he doesn't actually go down the length), he decides that it's a pretty safe bet that this is what Sally was talking about. Once he re-asses the area and determines that there are no hostiles waiting in the rafters (or anywhere else), he heads back to where the kid in question is still waiting for him, her face clearly visible as she hovers behind the sliver in the wall. Her face in contorted in worry, and she bounces up and down as she eagerly awaits his return. He sticks his hand back through the hole for her to take, and she grabs it and uses it to help her through, beaming up at him once she is.

"Thanks."

"No problem," he mutters, half-listening. "I don't think there are any bad men around here, but you still need to stick with me. Don't go running off."

"I know," she sighs, grabbing his hand and swinging it back and forth, her previous expression of interest and curiosity replaced with sudden boredom and exasperation.  _Are all kids this susceptible to sudden mood swings? No wonder so many people find them exhausting_ — _I've only known this kid for a couple of hours, I can't imagine doing it for the rest of my life. That;d almost be worse than being permanently stuck down here. Speaking of which._

He squeezes her hand, guiding her along the hallway and around the corner, but stops when he sees a chalkboard with his picture on it—more specifically, the picture taken of him, Tenenbaum, and Suchong. Loosening his grip just the slightest, he looks closer and reads all about the prefrontal lobe and his own "cognitive development" with a mention of the W-Y-K conditioning. He notices that there's another door right next to it, and peering inside the porthole he realizes that this must have been his old room when Suchong and Tenenbaum had still been working on him. Although the door looks to be in fine shape and the room accessible, he decides for the sake of both time and his own sanity to skip this room and forge ahead. Sally too seems intrigued by the possibility of exploring the room, but when she notices the sour look he gives the room before tugging her just a bit too harshly along, she decides not to ask.

They continue down the hallway, the rest of the path of which is incredibly short and devoid of anything else interesting, they come across another automatic door, which leads into a small room with two more locked doors; one of which is too dirty to see anything through and the other looks into the false wall behind Suchong's clinic—looking at it now he can even see the crack in the wall they had climbed through to get here. There is only one door that they can pass through, and so they choose that one, which leads into another small room. They pass quickly through this one, which leads them into a lab of some sort—as they come down the steps and into the main area, he notices the Vita-Chamber prototype on his left, and briefly wonders if perhaps he could reprogram his DNA into it. He quickly pushes the thought out of his mind, however—he has neither the time nor the patience or know-how to do such a thing. They come into the main area, and Jack has to stop for a moment to process it all, something that annoys the little girl hanging onto his hand very much.

They're definitely in a lab of some sort, no doubt about it—but it's much cleaner and far more organized than the clinic. Bottles and beakers line the counters as they stray further in, and several sheets of notes and diagrams line the walls and pile up on said counters. The same can be said of the table in the middle of the room. A blackboard stands behind it, depicting a not-entirely-erased outline of a young woman, with the words  _IMPRINTING SOLUTION_ _ **NOT**_ _FOUND IN GENETICS!_  scribbled through it. The sentence definitely gets an eyebrow raise from Jack, along with the recessive/dominant gene chart drawn beside it. On the table, there's a jar with some sort of...hair sample? just sitting there, with the label  _SUBJECT HAIR SAMPLE._  He does want to take a moment and really take all this in—this is weird, really weird. Another mystery woman with some sort of connection to Suchong, who it looks like was also under constant scrutiny by him, poked and prodded...the thought brings with it some very unpleasant memories, so he pushes the thought out of his mind and decides to move on. He doesn't know this woman, either, and anyways, she's probably either spliced up or dead now, so he shouldn't bother.

They move on into the next room, which doesn't hold much besides a cot and more notes, so they pass through there quickly and find themselves in some sort of miniature Big Daddy facility. Bouncer model suits hang from the ceiling, detached drills lay on tables in puddles of motor oil, notes are scattered across the room, and there is a chalkboard with a very detailed drawing of a Protector drill near the entrance to the next hallway. He takes a quick tour through the room, avoiding the hallway, but he doesn't find anything besides more notes and some Big Daddy information that he wouldn't have cared to know otherwise. Finally, he stops procrastinating and decides to just get it over with—if he bathysphere isn't there, it isn't there, and no amount of avoiding the inevitable is going to change that. He sighs, putting down the clipboard he's holding and squeezing Sally's hand.

He makes for the hallway, but as he passes the chalkboard, he notices a piece of writing that makes him stop and backtrack. He peers at the drill drawing, and the white writing above and below it.

— _ISSUE: HYDRAULIC FLUIDS/GASES WITHIN DRILL CAUSE SUBJECT TO BECOME_ _UNRELIABLE_ _,_ _UNSTABLE_ _._

— _LAUNCHING OPTION TO BE_ _REMOVED_   _FROM DRILL IN FUTURE MODELS_

He glances at Sally, who is absentmindedly playing with his fingers as she rolls back and forth on the balls of her feet. She isn't looking at him—rather, she's looking up at the Big Daddy suits not too far away, perhaps reminded that she had one of those not too long ago. Did she know the true nature of her story, of the people she'd known or the memories she'd lost? He knows there's no point in asking, so he doesn't. At least now he knows what caused her Big Daddy to go rogue—it must have been the drill. Well, one mystery solved, several more to go. He tugs one the girl's hand, and her attention snaps back to him almost immediately. He motions to the hallway, tugging her along, and Sally follows, seeming almost too eager to get the hell out of there.

They make their way into and through the hallway, emerging—exactly as Sally had said—in the bathysphere port for Artemis Suites, where a bathysphere bobs lightly on the surface on the water, just...waiting for them. He feels like crying in relief, or maybe letting out a string of curse words. He doesn't do either, instead glancing down at the kid and grinning. She grins back, jumping up and down.

"We did it! We did it!" she cries, and attempts to break the bones in his hand by squeezing it tighter than anything should be squeezed. He winces, grabbing his hand back and massaging it while frowning at her. "Sorry."

"Let's just get going," he grumbles, his good mood slightly soured now. He leads the way out from behind the  _Rapture Tribune_ booth and to the actual bathysphere itself. He makes sure that the boat is actually operational before ushering the child aboard shortly before following her. He takes a final look around the area before shutting the door and tapping  _FONTAINE'S DEPARTMENT STORE_ from the selection. The bathysphere's engine revves, and the vehicle itself lurches and bobs in the water before descending into the open ocean. He turns to Sally to make sure that she's sitting down propr before the craft takes off, but it would seem that she remembers the last time they were in one of these things. Good. He himself takes a seat just before they leave.

Once they've cleared the port, Sally cautiously stands up and makes her way over to the porthole, gazing out at the luminous, looming buildings of Rapture as they pass by. She points out this and that as they go along—the numerous colorful fish that swim by in schools, the landmarks that she recognizes, the occasional shark or whale. Finally, she turns to Jack and motions him over. "Over here, Mister Jack," she says, her double-edged voice sending unintentional shivers down his spine. "I found the store."

"You can read?" he asks in astonishment, coming over to the window and looking where she's pointing. Sure enough, the department store is there, looming high above the rest of the surrounding buildings with its neon blue, vertical lettering and stone statue decorating the front—probably of some mythological being, but Jack doesn't know who. Poseidon, perhaps?

Sally looks up at him. "I'm six. Of course I can read."

"You don't exactly know that," he reminds her, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"I'm six- _ish._  ...I think."

"You're probably closer to seven, if we're being honest. Anyways, it doesn't matter. We're almost there—go and sit down. Hold on tight to something, just make sure it isn't me."

"Okay." She scrambles back to her seat and throws herself on the cushion, looking around for something to grab onto. Jack follows her example, choosing to hold onto the stem of the lever pedestal. Sally follows his example with barely a moment's hesitation as they pass a building labeled  _HOUSEWARES_ —no doubt a subdivision of the store itself. He wonders if the Bathyspheres Deluxe is somewhere inside—if so, they'll find what they're looking for there. He waits as they rise into the port, and sighs as he hears Sally fall to the floor due to her failure to hold on. As the craft breaks the water, signaling their journey's end, it makes a loud sound akin to crashing waves that has both of them wincing at the volume.

"Well, we're here," he says after a few moments of them simply sitting there and doing nothing. "Might as well get this over with."

Neither of them make any attempt to move.

"So...we should probably get going." Jack looks out the porthole for the first time, immediately noticing that much like Suchong's clinic, this place is far cleaner, more spaced out, and less bloody than his previous experiences. In fact, the room they appear to be in seems sparsely decorated, with only a few billboards scattered throughout and some counters shunted to the side. Lots of open space, which is great for the flooded floor. He wonders why it doesn't look like there's been a massacre here—perhaps because the path to the bathysphere that's taken them here was until recently closed off, and therefore not that many now-Splicers have been through here. In order for that theory to work however, they would have needed to become trapped here somehow, disallowing access to and from the rest of Rapture.

"Probably," Sally says at last, snapping him out of his musings.

Jack looks back at her and notices that she hasn't moved a muscle from her sprawled out position on the floor. "Are you going to move?" he asks, frowning.

"No. Are you?"

He sighs, but makes no move to get up. "I guess I have to."

"Are you going to leave me here?"

"What? No. I said I'd take you with me, and I will. I'm not backing out of our agreement. Untrustworthy and morally ambiguous though I may be, I don't fringe on promises."

"It would be a lot easier to just leave me here, though, wouldn't it? Don't you want to?"

Jack has to think about that for a moment, half-seriously considering it before remembering his earlier musings on the subject and shaking his head, standing up and helping her do the same. "Yeah, you're a lot more trouble than you're worth, I'll give you that. But you're fairly obedient, you're small and so you can get into places I can't, and I assume you've been here before, so if you remember the general layout of the place then you'll know where we need to go, where we should avoid, and where we'll find the good stuff. You know, health machines, vending machines, that sort of thing. So in short, you and I are partners now, and you're fairly valuable to me, so I don't plan on getting rid of you anytime soon. Now, are we going, or are you going to  _make_ me leave you here?"

She seems to think about that for a moment, frowning deeply and shifting nervously. Finally, she looks up at him. "Okay, I'll come. Just make sure that none of the bad men get me and we're good." She give him a thumbs up as she takes his hand, which he returns before switching out his hand with his sweater sleeve. Together, they make their way out of the bathysphere and head into the department store, hoping against hope that the universe won't decide that they need another dose of "fuck you" anytime soon.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have quite a few chapters of this story written already, hence the really frequent updates, but as soon as I've posted most of what I already have the updates are going to slow. Not "post every three months" kind of slow, but maybe bi-weekly? I'm thinking Tuesdays and Thursdays. Not yet, though, so don't worry.

"First things first, kid: we need supplies. I need more EVE hypos and health kits. I also have some leftover ADAM from before we met, so if we find a Gatherer's Garden somewhere, that' be swell.  _Do_ you remember the layout of this place? Remember where everything is, I mean. You know, like I said before—where we need to go, where we should avoid, and where we'll find the good stuff."

"Oh. Yeah, I know the way. Follow me."

Indeed, she drags him forward, intending to lead the way, and Jack is ready to follow, readjusting his grip on the girl and letting her trot ahead of him, but she stops short just a few steps out of the bathysphere, backtracking quickly. She looks back at Jack, her dead yellow eyes gazing up at him in slight terror, and Jack immediately looks around, pulling out his pistol and searching for the threat. Sally, however, just shakes her head.

"No bad men," she reassures him, which doesn't reassure him. He raises an eyebrow at her, suspicious. "Just scared of water. Don't like it. Too cold. It makes me 'member bad things." She shudders, turning away from the water and hiding her face in Jack's pant leg.

Aquaphobia is not something that he would have suspected anyone living in Rapture of having, what with being invited down here and coming willingly, but he supposes that after living down here for so long it's just an acquired taste. He glances at the flooded floor again, noting the various puddles of varying depth and Sally's very apprehensive glaring at them, and also realizes with some amount of surprise that he understands how she's feeling. Water had never been his favorite either, and his experiences in Rapture have already definitely resulted in some aquaphobia. He sighs, rolling his eyes and keeling to be at eye level with the girl. Okay, so he's not the biggest dick on the planet after all—he's not going to make a little kid do something that they're deathly afraid of. Especially not this kid, who is now known for screaming when endangered and running off when she's scared. God knows he'd never find her if she decided to bail, and then he'd have no map and he'd have to readjust his plan and then—nope. Just not worth it. He opens his arms invitingly, hoping she gets the hint, and she clambers onto him, settling on his hip and clutching his neck tightly.

"Thanks," she mumbles.

"You can point and I'll go wherever you're pointing, okay? Our primary goal is to get the boat, but we need some supplies first, like I said before. Do you know where any vending machines are? Wait, do you know what that is?"

"Creepy clowns," she replies, and Jack's pretty sure she's got it. He nods, and she gives him another thumbs up. "I know where some are. Let's go."

* * *

"Oh, fuck me gently with a chainsaw."

Sally looks at him incredulously, brow furrowed as she tries to comprehend what he just said. "Huh?"

He shakes his head, not taking his eyes off of the looming gate in front of them. It's almost the exact opposite of the one he had seen before, in the closed off section where he had met Sally. Where that one had had nothing more than a looping chain around the handles and a few safety stickers plastered onto the front, this one is clearly electric and has a very large looking official badge-type thing going on, with the words  _CLOSED BY ORDER OF THE COUNCIL_ looped around it. He mutters angrily as he notes just one similarity—the same glowing green contraption as before, hanging far out of reach above the gate. What was it that those things were called again? Well, not the things themselves, but the devices used to—well, use them, Air Grabbers? Shit.

"Well, I guess we're not going anywhere," he laments lamely. He sighs, making to put Sally down as she looks at him curiously. "That gate is shut up tight. No one is getting in or out of that thing. Now, there  _is_ a way,  _maybe,_ to get past the gate, but we would need one of those 'Air Grabber' things, and would you look at that, we don't have one. So we're stuck."

"They have to be here," she protests, her lip jutting out in what he supposes is the typical six-year-old pout. Looking over her again, he reaffirms his previous observation—she looks a bit too old to be six, but not quite big enough to be seven. Six and a half, perhaps? Or maybe due to their condition Little Sisters didn't age the same way that non-Little Sister did. Perhaps they aged slower, or not at all.

"I can deal with six and a half," she nods, pronouncing "six and a half" somewhat slowly. Jack starts, redirecting his gaze to the kid, but quickly realizes that he'd probably been talking out loud again. Damnit, he really is going nuts. He sighs again, running a hand down his face in exasperation. First he got ditched by Tenenbaum, then he was forced to come up with a half-ass plan to get out of here that might not even work, and now he's chaperoning a kid to go get this fucking boat thing so they can  _both_ get out of here, because apparently she knows what she's doing and Jack doesn't have any better ideas so teaming up with an  _almost_ seven year old is his best bet. Yeah, he's  _definitely_ going to get out of this alive.

"Well, they've gotta be here  _somewhere,_ right?"

"I suppose," he says with reluctant hope. "I mean, they have to be, or else we're fucked."

"Let's  _not_ be fucked, then..." She says it with a lot more confidence than either of them really feel, but instead it occurs to Jack then that he should probably stop cursing in front of her, lest she pick up on it. Oh well, you can't save everyone, and besides, he thinks that by now they're both entitled to a little cursing every now and then.

"Okay, fine. Let's get started, then. Any ideas where we should look?"

"...I don't even know what we're looking  _for._ "

" _Sigh._ "

* * *

They finally,  _finally_ find one of the damn things God only knows how long after they'd first set off to find it. It had been frozen to one of the few dead bodies scattered around the area, all the way in an  _EMPLOYEES ONLY_ closet back in the bathysphere station. He'd had to pick the kid up and carry her all the way back again, and now his hip is aching and his left arm is numb from supporting her weight. Once they get back to the gate Jack makes quick work on plopping her down on the counter opposite and briefly massaging his arm, wincing as he does so. Sally looks on, unimpressed.

"We need another one," she tells him simply, and Jack's heart stops for a second before he realizes.

"No, we don't," he replies, grabbing the Air Grabber from her and looking it over. "We just need one—I'll carry you as we go over. You aren't big or strong enough to support your own weight on one of those things, and if you fell from that height...well, okay, due to your condition you wouldn't  _die_ , but you  _would_ be in excruciating pain. So we only need one, and it's for me."

Sally seems to consider this, knocking her feet against the wood of the counter base, before shrugging. "Okay. Are we going now?"

"One sec. I have to regain feeling in my left arm before we go anywhere, because you are  _way_ heavier than any kid of your size and height should be."

"Can't you just carry me on your other side? It won't be for real long. We just have to hop over the gate, then you can put me down. I  _do_  know how to walk."

Jack looks at her, quite surprised at this fairly simple solution, and reminds himself that he has  _got_ to stop underestimating her. As if sensing his defeat before he even admits it, she holds out her arms, waiting to be picked up. He sighs, accepting his fate as he hoists her onto his right hip and supports her with his right arm. He still stays by the counter, though, not quite ready to shift her full weight onto himself just yet. He adjusts the Air Grabber onto his left hand, making sure it is fully functional and he knows how to work it before walking the short distance from there to the foot of the gate. He looks up at the glowing orb apprehensively.

"So...I think it's safe to say that we still don't know how this thing works. But, it's worth a shot, so here goes absolutely nothing..."

He presses down on the lever, watching the blades whirr in a perfect, deadly circle in front of his face. Nothing happens until Sally reaches out to touch it and Jack yanks it out of her reach, which is when something yanks on him. He steps back, surprised, which is when he notices that the orb is glowing a much brighter green now. He looks at it, then back at the tool in his hand. Slowly and cautiously, he raises his hand again, stepping closer to underneath the orb. He feels the tug again.

"Uh-oh," Sally says, noticing what's going on, and that pretty much encompasses his exact thoughts on the matter. He nods in agreement before pressing her tighter against him.

"Hold on tight," he says, before backtracking several steps, running back up to the gate, and jumping. Almost immediately, the tugging intensifies tenfold, dragging him upwards and towards the orb quickly and forcefully. He has just enough wherewithal to spin the Grabber so that it catches onto the loop he assumes serves this exact purpose before he's vaulted over the gate and into the deep chasm below, which he only now notices. A burst pipe spews freezing water over the length, giving the appearance of a water bridge connecting the two sides. He's eerily reminded of the closed-off section of the department store where he'd met his diminutive companion, but he's quickly shaken out of his musings by the groaning of metal above him.

_I can't hold on much longer,_ he realizes, already feeling the ache in his muscles as he clings to the Grabber which is still hooked onto the device above.  _I suppose just down below would work_ — _no way in hell we're getting over there right now. Maybe once we're down there I can freeze the bridge with Winter Blast. I should have enough EVE._

"Sally, we're gonna—" he starts, only to have a tiny hand slapped rather rudely on his mouth.

He starts, snapping his full attention to her, and when they lock eyes she simply puts her other finger to her lips, signaling him to be quiet. Obviously, he has no idea what's going on, so he tries to ask, but the mouth on his hand just grows tighter as her odd mannerisms become more urgent. She taps her finger against her mouth, worry written all over her face as she removes it and points it downwards. He is no stranger to the abomination that is anxiety and dread mixed together, and that horrid cocktail returns to his senses as he follows her finger, fearing the worst.

" _It's like a wheel of blood, spinning round and round..._ " a deranged voice echoes, the relatively empty space around them amplifying the noise tenfold. " _I can't_ _ **stand**_   _it. Guilty, guilty,_ _ **guilty!**_ "

Oh, goddamnit.

He turns back to Sally, nodding once to show that he understand the treat, and she takes her hand off of his mouth. They both turn back to the voice, having to guess where it's coming from as there is no Splicer in sight—but that's bound to change soon. They watch as, indeed, a Splicer emerges from a bulkhead on the far side of the chasm, muttering to themselves about something or other. They don't seem to notice the pair, but they make no move to leave either. Jack curses mentally, readjusting his grip on the Grabber and wincing when a loud, metal creaking is the result. Sally gasps, and Jack curses aloud this time, but they still remain unnoticed by the Splicer. Thank God.

"Sally," he whispers, not more than ten seconds later. He squirms uncomfortably as she turns to him, readjusting his grip on the Grabber again. "My arms are really aching, I don't think I'm going to be able to hold much longer. I need you to keep holding on, and  _do not let go._  If we drop down, we'll be on this side, where the bad man can't get to us. We will need to make our way over there, though, and if he notices us there's no way he'll just let us go. I'll have to fight him, and it won't be easy. If that happens I need you to stay as close as possible. Understand?"

"Yeah," she whispers back, her voice shaking, and it throws him off a bit to hear such a demonic voice so scared. Another metal groan and his attention is diverted back to the matter at hand. He can't hold on much longer—just a few more seconds—

He doesn't mean to  _let go,_ exactly, but that's what happens—his left arm is far too tired to support both him and Sally any longer and so simply gives up, his hand slipping out of the Air Grabber and wrapping around his companion instead as they plunge to the ground. They  _just_ manage not to die, miraculously—though they definitely don't land upright, and Sally lets out a soft scream as Jack hears something crack. Whether it's his or hers, though, he can't tell. He scrambles to his feet and quickly assess the situation, noting with no small amount of displeasure that Sally doesn't move.

The Splicer definitely heard them, if his hostile glare towards them is any indication. Jack barely hesitates before he bends down, scoops up Sally, and points his gun at the offending party. The Splicer doesn't move, which while Jack finds that odd, doesn't stop him from glancing briefly down at Sally to make sure she's still breathing. He's pretty sure that fall didn't kill her, but then again he's been wrong before. It takes him a few moments to notice the light rise and fall of her chest, but when he does he sighs in relief before turning his attention back to the Splicer but realizing with a fair amount of panic that it's gone. He's about to start firing when Sally moans in his arms. Fuck it, he's got more important things to worry about.

He laid her down on the ground after one final glance at the opposite side, tapping her forehead and thanking his lucky stars that finally, something went right today. He quickly checks her over for injuries or broken bones, but he doesn't find anything, which means that the crack came from him. No time to worry about that now, though. He soothes Sally as she tries to sit up, wincing as she does and rubbing her head.

"Are you alright? That was a pretty nasty fall. I think I broke something, but you seem to be alright. Does anything hurt?"

She gently touches a hand to her head, frowning when she touches a particular spot. "Well, everything hurts," she admits, looking up at him.

He doesn't even try to stop the short laugh that simple statement gets from him. "Yeah, you and me both. The Splicer is gone for now, but I'm sure he's somewhere nearby. Let's not wait around for him to find us."

"We still need supplies?"

Oh, bless her. God fucking  _bless her._  "Yes," he chuckles, despite the gravity of the situation. "We definitely still need supplies. I'm pretty sure I broke something, too, so we need a health station to fix me up. You know where one is?"

She points to something behind him, and for a second he thinks the Splicer is back, but it turns out that to his rotten luck, there is a health machine right in this very room...on the other side of the divide. "Well, that's inconvenient."

"Bad?" she guesses, mirroring her facial expression after his own.

"Bad," he agrees, standing up. He offers his hand to her, which she takes with little hesitation. Good Lord, she really does trust him, doesn't she? Sooner or later he's going to have to tell her that all this faith and trust is completely misplaced, but he doesn't see the harm in letting her believe for a little longer. He leads her to the edge of the split, ushering her back a bit, and switching to Winter Blast. He steps back a bit too, taking a deep breath before thrusting his hand out and allowing the cold ice to burst from his palm.

It bursts all right, but nothing happens.

He tries again, stepping closer to the edge and opening his hand again. Still nothing. He tries pointing instead, though he usually reserves that for a more focused beam of ice. Nope.

What the hell?

He tries again and again until he feels the power dying down, his ice burst getting weaker and producing less ice, and finally he sighs, digging through his satchel for another EVE hypo—and oh, of  _course_ he's out. He curses loudly, snapping the bag shut and turning back to Sally.

"We're stuck," he announces, dropping to the ground in defeat. After a moment, Sally joins him, crossing her legs and thinking with him. They sit like that for a while, backs turned to the chasm, when Jack gets another idea. He stands up, turning back, and begins to look around for something. Sally follows his progress curiously.

"What are you looking for?" she asks finally.

"Chemical thrower. I had one before we met, before—well, you don't need to know, but the point is, I ditched it and a lot of my other gear before backtracking all across Rapture and meeting you. No way I could go back now and get it, too far away and too time consuming. Plus I don't even know if it's still there. There  _may_ be one just lying around here, but I doubt it. Still…" he continues his search, muttering to himself and generally ignoring Sally. She watches him from afar, frowning as he rubs his temples and curses some more.

"What does it look like?"

"I— _sigh_ —I dunno. I mean,  _I_ know what it looks like, but I'm not sure how I'd explain it to you. My plan is, if I find one, I'm hoping it has some liquid nitrogen inside so we can try to use that to freeze the water instead of my Plasmid, which for whatever reason is not working."

"Can't we just find another way to get to the other side?"

"No...no. This used to be one whole floor, but something happened to make it break apart and the pipes underneath broke. If we could freeze the water, we could use the ice as a bridge between the two places and we could get across. But my...eh...my  _ice powers_  aren't working, so we need to find another way to freeze it. Liquid nitrogen is basically liquid ice, so it would do the trick. I suppose if you want, you can help look, but I doubt we'll find anything here. We might have to go back…."

"Is that it up there?"

Jack turns to where the child is pointing, and sure enough, hanging precariously over the edge of a large...well, it  _looks_ like an enormous sewer pipe, but he's not exactly sure. Large icicles and banks of snow coat the opening and the inside as far as he can see. The grate is not where it should be, probably popped off by who knows what—but a quickly glance downwards reveals that thankfully, it's lying against the wall underneath. Whoever had removed it had lain it horizontally, forming a sort of makeshift (albeit slippery) ladder…

"Bullshit," he announces, even as he walks towards the grate and pokes it lightly to make sure he's not hallucinating. That's a side effect of mental instability, right? Which yes, he's definitely got—but no, the grate is still there, and now the tip of his index finger is numb too.  _Fantastic._ "Well, I guess I'm going up. Sally," he calls, turning back to the girl, who is examining something in her hands. He doesn't think to ask her what it is, figuring that it's probably a small something she just picked up while he wasn't looking. Still. "Hey, put that down. Where did you find that?"

The girl shrugs, not giving a verbal answer, and she doesn't put the mysterious object down either. Whatever, as long as it's not dangerous. Wait, why does he care? Oh, right, she's an asset. He contents himself with that answer, purposefully the small bit of anxiety that grows in his chest at the thought of her getting hurt. He sighs.

"You know what, nevermind. Listen, I'm gonna be gone for a second. Come over here, I don't want you more than five feet away from me at all times. We've talked about this," he says as she walks up to him, still holding the object in her hands. Looking closer, he realizes that it's the Air Grabber. Kid must have grabbed it right before they fell, though the  _how_ is still unclear. He decides to ask, but before he can, she looks up at him in confusion.

"You never said anything about five feet!" she argues vehemently, making her way towards him and frowning deeply.

"I—okay, no I didn't. But I  _did_ say that I didn't want you out of my sight. Surely you remember that, at least. I made it very clear."

"You can see me over there, can't you?" She points to where she had been sitting before, a small eyebrow raised as she glances back at him. Jack frowns, rolling his eyes and turning to the sewer grate, beginning to climb.

"There's no point in arguing with me, kiddo. I'm the adult here, you listen to me. I know what I'm doing. I've got everything worked out, see? Everything is going according to my brilliant plan."

"Riiiight," she says, unnecessarily dragging out the "i" to four syllables. She raises a tiny eyebrow as he nearly slips on a particularly icy bar (thankfully, he recovers just in time—no thanks to her, of course). She manages to continue to look unimpressed, as if she somehow knows that out of all the lies he's told that one has to be the most transparent. She's silent for the few minutes it takes him to at least make it past the first three rungs, and then she clears her throat and raises her hand. "Mister Jack, can I say something?"

"You just did," he replies, and chuckles at his own joke—because hey, he knows he's not funny, but if he doesn't laugh at his own jokes then no one will. "Go ahead, Sally."

"Your plan sucks."

Silently, he agrees. Out loud, he quietly mutters, "Oh, fuck off. Gah, I hate kids." He grumbles that last part, taking care that his diminutive companion doesn't hear. He glances back to make sure she didn't, and while she's still watching his every move intently, she doesn't show any sign of having been offended recently. Well, that's good, at least.  _Well,_ he amends, after a moment, and after returning to his task.  _If I was gonna get stuck with someone while trying to escape the deadliest city in the world, a kid wouldn't have been my first or even fifth choice, but she's alright, I guess._

Which is when he almost slips again due to him not paying attention, and he hears a faint snicker from below and behind.

_Nevermind._


	7. Chapter 7

Somehow, against all of the odds being stacked against them, his luck being more rotten than Rapture's corpse, and his karma being so bad that if he fell from slipping on ice he would think  _fair enough_ , he makes it up and back in one piece, and there is plenty of liquid nitrogen left in the tank. Hell, he'd even found some ammo lying right next to it. Can you say "stroke of incredible luck"? He makes sure the thing is fully functional before testing it out, heading back to the water bridge and spraying a small burst near the very edge of the chasm—close enough to matter but not close enough to actually freeze the pipe, as Sally had pointed out when he'd been accidentally about to. Now, the small section freezes with little hesitation, but of course because it has nothing to hold onto it crashes to the ground below, and they hear a faint shattering noise as it does. Oh well. At least they know the damn thing works. He wonders why  _this_ works and his Winter Blast doesn't—they have the same effects after all, and all the previous times he'd switched the two out for each other he'd gotten the same results. Does it really matter? Well...yes, actually, this time it does. He snaps himself out of his musings before Sally can, and turns to her.

"Hey, it works!" Sally cries joyfully, clapping her hands together and startling him out of his musing—again. "We can go now, right?"

"Alright, it works, but the ice might break if we both try to cross at the same time. It probably won't hold both our weights. But, don't worry, I've got an idea. Stand behind me."

Sally has to crane her neck yet again to look at her partner, stepping back a bit so she can actually see his face. She gives him a worried look, glancing back at the bridge and chewing her lip. "We can still cross though, right?"

"If my plan works, yes. So here  _is_ the plan: I'm going to freeze as far as this thing will allow, and then I'm going to walk across the bridge and freeze the rest of my way through. Once I'm on the other side, then you'll follow me over. But don't run and don't rush, take your time and be slow—not too slow, though. If you're too fast, the different parts of ice won't be able to hold you and it'll crack, but if you're too slow, over a short period of time it will make the ice crack enough to shatter. You're lighter than I am, though, and you have near invulnerability, but also if you fall there's no way I'll be able to get to you. If  _I_ fall, I'm dead, and you're stranded on that side—and in Rapture—forever. So, we both have to be very careful, unless you  _want_ to die, which—hey—I won't judge."

Sally nods, biting her lip and frowning deeply and wrinkling her nose. Do all kids make such weird faces when their emotions are too much for them to handle? God, kids are strange. Between this one's weird facial expressions and her odd mannerisms, he doesn't quite know what to think of them as a whole. The child in question nudges him then, breaking him out of his thoughts, and frowns up at him. Man, she frowns a lot.

"Are we going?" she asks impatiently, hands on her hips as she sighs, irritated.

Jack glares back at the child with equal impatience and irritation (though perhaps with a tad more of both than strictly necessary) and rolls his eyes. Wordlessly, he hefts the large weapon in his hands and points it in front of him, calculating his next move. This is the tricky part—he has to make sure that he doesn't accidentally freeze the pipes that the water is coming from or else no more water and therefore no more bridge; but he also must pay attention to the fact that if it is not close enough to connect, then the ice will simply fall and shatter like they had seen before. He's not 100% sure how exactly to fix this problem, but he's proven himself to be a master at coming up with last second plans.

He takes note of the opposite end of the chasm, taking in the fairly short distance, the small amount of space on the other side, and—most importantly—the other water pipe, also broken and spouting its contents in their direction. Both spouts of water are just large enough to barely connect, crashing into each other and making an unholy sort of noise. The sound is only increased by the near emptiness of the space and the deep pit below—the depths of depravity have lovely acoustics, he thinks as a plan begins to formulate in his mind.

In one motion, he pulls the lever and pushes Sally farther back, noting that the girl had been about to touch it and making a mental note to warn her against such things. As they watch, the blue liquid spurts out and freezes the water solid, the noise akin to ice cracking and the groaning of metal—not the most pleasant of sounds. Sally grimaces whilst Jack merely presses his lips together his brow furrowing in discomfort. Finally, a good five or six feet of ice has formed, enough for Jack to walk about halfway through. He steps back and admires his handiwork, nodding to himself and letting a sort of half smile crawl on his face.

The first water burst has been completely frozen, leaving the second rushing to fill the space that it had occupied but falling quite short. Instead of against the opposing water pipe, the end of this watery arc falls into the darkness below, and as he listens he can faintly hear it as it crashes to the ground—perhaps if they had an eternity to wait they could simply  _wait_ for the water to fill to the top and swim across, but he's pretty sure that there is not nearly enough water in there for that. Besides, this should work just fine. He places a tentative step on the newly formed ice, finally shifting his weight onto the half-bridge and immediately backtracking when after a few seconds the ice cracks underneath him and Sally screams from behind.

"Mr. Bubbles," she gasps, reaching out to him though she is far from the edge and her arms are too short to even come close to reaching. Jack turns back sharply in surprise at the name, but it appears that the girl doesn't realize what she's just said, too caught up with Jack's apparent doom to care.  _Well, you and me both, Sister._

He turns his attention from her back down at the ice—and sure enough, there is a visible crack glaring up at him, shallow and small but a grim warning of what is to come should he lose caution for a second. He grimaces.

"It's like I said—it'll barely hold me, and it sure as shit won't hold the both of us combined. I'm gonna go across in a moment, but first I want to see if you have better luck than I do. Just step on the ice for a moment or two, then come back—don't head out too far. Okay?"

Sally doesn't answer, not verbally, but she doesn't need to—she backs away a bit and looks up at Jack again, her face a mix of apprehension and fear, so reluctant is she to depart from the one person that doesn't seem like they want to kill her since becoming a Sister. She looks back at the ice bridge and tentatively takes a step forward—it's not much, but it's a start, and he'll take what he can get with her. As she takes her first couple of steps onto the bridge he waits for the sound of cracking ice and impending doom, but it doesn't come—as she strays farther and farther away he resists the urge to call her back, instead waiting with bated breath as she almost crosses over to the second pipe. He makes a quick whistle, and she starts, turning to him, but he tries for a reassuring smile and a wave towards himself to beckon her back. She nearly scurries, almost slipping on the ice more than once. Once she's safely back on this side and she's clutching at his sweater sleeve once more, he decides that he needs to make a decision.

On the one hand, the ice clearly favors Sally, so it makes sense to send her over first and then he follows. Simple enough  _in theory,_ but if he's not mistaken, there are only two ways out, and unless he's wrong he's pretty sure your average splicer doesn't know how to use a bathysphere or any elevators. Which, of course, means that the splicer from earlier is still probably hanging around somewhere, by now no doubt aware of his and Sally's presence—in fact, he's probably waiting up in the rafters right now, waiting for his opportunity to snatch the girl and gut her. Well, fuck that, then. After all the trouble he's gone through for her—to protect her and to keep her on his side—plus the fact that he still intends to use their partnership to its full advantage—there's no way in hell he's giving her up without a fight, or at all. But, he realizes with a twinge of horror as he gazes at the ice bridge (which is already starting to melt and crack a bit), if he wants them both to get out of here alive, then he doesn't really have a choice. He's going to have to let her go first and hope for the best. He looks down at his side, and then turns and surveys the area to find her. She's standing by the gate, Air Grabber in hand, and holding it up to (presumably, though he has no idea why) try and catch the magnetic field again.

"What are you doing?"

"If we can get back up, we can just go back the way we came and find another way through." At his slightly confused expression, she elaborates, continuing her odd little dance as she jumps and twirls around to catch the field. She nearly topples over more than once considering the fairly weighted item in her hands, but she manages. "This area is...broken. Like the other place. We can't get through. The ice doesn't like me, and I don't think it likes you either. No way past, Mister Jack—gotta go back." She shakes her head and turns her attention back to her fruitless task, though of course she doesn't realize it's all in vain. Jack is probably going to tell her, at some point, once he gets done marveling at how completely unnerving that last bit was— _ **the ice doesn't like me**_ _...Jesus, no wonder so many horror movies have kids as the antagonists, the creepy motherfuckers_ —but of course she's right. He's not telling her that last part though.

"No way back," he tells her, grabbing the Air Grabber and frowning as he tries to find a place for it. "The ice bridge will have to do—the best we can hope for is that it holds you and it collapses behind me, and then there's  _really_ no way back. This department store more than likely has more than just one exit and entrance, so it's not that big of a loss especially considering where we came from. Come on, then…" He nudges her away from the gate, motioning towards the ice, and for once keeling down to be at her eye level.

"Alright, listen. You're going to have to go over first, because you're smaller and far lighter than I am. The ice won't be under as much pressure with a six year old little kid running across it. It'll probably break as soon as I go over, considering I'm bigger and heavier, so I'm going to have to be fast and run across it. Stupid  _and_  dangerous, I know. Jealous?" He wiggles his eyebrows for dramatic effect, though he doesn't expect it to have any effect—but he's both surprised and pleased when it gets a small giggle from her. He smiles as well, just a bit, and continues, still just as serious. "Once we cross there's no going back. You got that?"

Sally contemplates this for a moment, her brow furrowing deeply in concentration before she looks up at him and nods. Slowly, she makes her way towards the ice again, and this time she doesn't look hesitantly back at Jack every five steps, which he counts as a solid win. She takes quick but careful steps across the ice, and though she almost slips a few times, she manages to make it to the end, where she picks up the pace and nearly runs off the ice before it can collapse beneath her. Only then does she finally turn back to Jack and give him a combined big grin and thumbs up, which  _damnit_ if he doesn't find that at least a little adorable. He nods once at her, giving her a thumbs up of his own in return, and mentally prepares himself for one of the stupidest things he's ever done in his relatively short life.

"Okay, okay. You can do this. You killed one of the wealthiest tycoons in America, battled big metal men and drug-addicted freaks with superpowers, and you haven't died  _yet._ You can  _do this._ " He takes a deep breath, then, and quickly takes one step forward before he can change his own mind. A loud  _crack_ emits from the ice, and Jack just barely has time to retract his foot before the section crumbles into the dark pit below. " _Fuuuuck._ "

"Mister Jack, are you alright?" Sally calls, and he can just make out the concerned expression on her face from here.  _No,_ he wants to yell back,  _I'm actually about to die, and this is not how I wanted to go, so I'm actually feeling kinda sucky right now._ But there's no point in lowering the kid's moral, and so he simply plasters on a fake smile and throws up a thumbs up, "I'm fine. Just a little accident."  _I hope._

He tries again, making sure this time not to put all of his weight onto his foot, and though a noticeable crack appears underfoot, it doesn't break, which Jack is going to count as a win. He moves on before he or the ice can change either of their minds, and only by being quick on his feet and careful where he steps does he manage to make it to the other side to reunite with Sally, with only a few sections of the ice completely gone. "Thank  _God,_ " he says, resting his hands on his knees as he looks back. Yeah, there's definitely no way they're getting back over there, even if they wanted to. And they sure as  _shit_ don't. He turns to Sally, who holds up her hand for a victory high-five. He obliges her, and finds himself slightly surprised when he finds he actually kinda means it.

"Can we get into the store now?" she asks, rather impatiently. She looks meaningfully towards the elevator, and up at the rafters where their splicer friend is no doubt still hanging about, waiting for his opportunity to strike. He grabs her arm and pushes her behind him protectively as he straightens, and nods.

"Yup. Let's go. Remember, stick close."

"Right. Thanks for telling me, I definitely didn't get it the first thirty times you said it."

"Okay, first of all, that's an exaggeration, it was only five; and second, shut up and stop sassing me."

"Stop being so easy to sass."

" _What_ did I just say _?_ "

* * *

"Well, this isn't creepy at all."

Nope. Definitely not. The immediate smell of sulphur and gasoline definitely doesn't put him on edge, the openness of the area and complete lack of enemies or noise definitely doesn't have him immediately reaching for his weapon, Sally's whimpering behind him  _definitely_ doesn't have him simultaneously reaching for  _her,_ and that nagging dread in the pit of his stomach saying  _bad bad bad_ over and over again most definitely does not make him almost want to try his chances with the ice bridge again. He takes a few deep breaths, reaffirms his hold on Sally, and steps out of the elevator.

Sally tugs on his hand, still whimpering. He really wishes she'd stop; it's making him nervous. "What is it, kid?"

"Don't like it here," she murmurs, quiet; and then, louder, "It doesn't feel right here. I dunno why, but I don't like it."

"That would be the lack of noise or people, m'dear. But fret not—I'm sure they'll turn up sometime, and God help us when they do. For now—well, you already know the drill."

"Stick close, stay out of the way, don't make a sound," she repeats, clutching his hand tighter. Her eyes dart around cautiously, scanning the area as her brow furrows anxiously.

Jack follows suit, noting almost immediately the large sign looming in the distance— _TO THE TRAM,_ it reads, but Jack doesn't bother feeling hopeful as it's probably just another dead end, one way or another. The mannequins catch his attention next, their lifeless but likelife frames dotting the landscape—either positioned neatly in some caricature of a long-destroyed display or strewn about the place carelessly, as if they were thrown against the various counters lining the sides of the room. He notes, again, the quietness, the stillness of the place getting on his nerves, and he flicks the safety off his gun as he begins to move forward. The skittering of tiny feet catches his attention—for a brief, horrifying moment he fears it may be another Little Sister—but no, it's just a couple of rats. He completes shooting one or two but figures they aren't worth the waste of ammunition.

Aside from all of that, there really isn't much to look at here. He contemplates checking behind the counters to see if there's any supplies they can use, and finally figures 'to hell with it.' Sally has stopped her whimpering beside him, but he can still feel the uneasiness radiate off of her in waves. He gives her tiny hand a reassuring squeeze, and leads her to the counter on the right. They don't find much there, as expected, except for some snack bars that are long expired and some cash in the registers. Not much, but every little bit counts, after all. They repeat this a couple of times, but when the next two searches turn out to be almost completely useless, Jack abandons the endeavor.

They continue through the area, endlessly cautious about the unnerving calmness of the atmosphere. Sally remains on edge, alternating between clawing at Jack's hand or squeezing his fingers as hard as she can. He tries his best to ignore it as they make their way to the tram, because hey, when you're backed into a metaphorical corner you have to explore all the options, even the ones you know will lead to a dead end. As they're approaching the sign, Jack swears he hears the faint  _ding_ of the elevator chime behind them, but refrains from looking back, figuring it's probably just a figment of his paranoia.

What most certainly  _isn't_ is the deep chasm impeding their progress, the uproarious cacophony of burst water pipes crashing against each other, forming a liquid bridge almost identical to the one they had just overcome. Jack swears loudly upon seeing it, using about half the words in his vulgar vocabulary before Sally kicks his leg to get his attention. He ignores her for the most part, far too furious to care anything about what some little brat thinks, but he does stop his bitching for a good five seconds to think.

"You. Are.  _Joking._  Are you for real? What the hell did I ever do to you? Why is this happening to me? Why can't something go right,  _just for once?!_ Is that too much to ask? Huh?  _Answer me, you pathetic piece of_ —" he sighs, frustrated, and honest-to-God stomps his foot at the edge of the crevice. He scowls deeply at it, preparing to scream his frustrations at it again, when Sally tugs on his hand.

"Mister Jack, why are you upset? We still have the…" she fumbles for a few moments, trying and failing to remember the name of the device that had saved their asses last time. "Uhm. The ice machine, we still have it, don't we? Can't we just make more ice?"

"We do," he amends, after a moment of his own. He had left the device in question back at the first ice bridge, figuring he didn't need the added weight and just relying on pure dumb luck that he wouldn't need it again. You'd think with all of his hopes and dreams riding on him, Fontaine would have programmed him with some better smarts and far more common sense. As it is, it doesn't really matter anyways—the thing had been almost empty, and he doubts he'd find any liquid nitrogen here. Sure, it's a department store, but from the looks of it they're nearest to the clothing section, and that sure as shit won't have what they need. He sighs in frustration and self-hatred, turning to Sally with what he hopes is a reassuring smile but in reality is probably more of a grimace.

"Okay, so here's the thing: I may or may not have...how to say this. I left it behind before we got on the elevator. It was out of juice anyways, so it wouldn't have done much good besides. We'll have to find another way, either around or, if worst comes to worst, across."

It's still a mystery to him how one's face can be so adorable and so grotesque at the same time, but every one of the Little Sisters has managed it. How he could have looked at their faces and seen monsters is something he's never going to forget or forgive. Sally is a constant reminder of that, though, and he's not getting rid of her anytime soon, so he figures he should just get used to it. He pushes down the odd squishy feeling in his chest as her ghoulish eyes, so empty and yet so full of emotion, gaze down at the floor, her cherub mouth pulled into a tight pout as she fills her cheeks with air, making them puff out and giving her an almost comical look. He'd ask what the hell she's doing, but in the short time he's known her he's learned it's best not to ask. When her face doesn't return to normal after the the second mark, he sighs and runs a hand over his face. "Kid."

"Sally." Her face quickly resumes its normal appearance to be quickly replaced with a look of annoyance as she turns her attention to him. "My name is Sally."

"I know, Sally. I know. Look, the tram is obviously a dead end, so we need to figure out another way to get...actually, wait," he says, more to himself that his cohort. "We need to find out where we're going first. What was the plan again? Erm...wait, okay, let me review that again. Step one: get out of the main part of Rapture. Done that. Step two: find a way out of here. Oh wow, that  _is_ a shit plan. Guess it's time to make a new one, then. Well, adapt and overcome—that's what I was born to do, right?  _Literally._  Oh wait fuck, I remember now. We were gonna find a bathysphere and somehow haul it into the ocean and  _get the fuck outta here._  But.." he turns back to the tram entrance, all the way on the other side of the chasm. He tilts his head thoughtfully, a new plan beginning to take shape in his mind.

"...Are you still talking to me?"

Yes, he hears her, and no, he is not, and neither does he answer her. Instead, he steps away from the edge of the divide, pacing back and forward with his fingers pressed to his temple. He realizes he's talking out loud right now, again, and that might be confusing for the six-probably-closer-to-seven-year-old standing a few feet away, still hopelessly trying to follow his train of thought along with him. "There's really no way we'd be able to haul an entire bathysphere into the ocean without equipment, and without anybody to maintain that equipment I doubt it still works. We don't have any reassurance that there are even any bathyspheres left, let alone that any of them are still functioning if so. If that tram is on a track, then it won't be shut down since Tenenbaum probably didn't have access to this part of Rapture, and even if she did there's no reason why or how she would or could predict we'd come here. Anyways. That bathysphere should be functioning, but a trip to where they're made might still prove useful if they have any info on how they're built. Maybe I could find a way to diverge its path somehow, take it off the track. Yeah...yeah, that's loads better that what we'd originally planned, innit Sally?" He doesn't turn to look at the girl for longer than a second, during which time she shrugs helplessly, completely lost at this point and just waiting for him to finish. Out of the corner of his eye he thinks he sees her open her mouth, either in protest or to make a useless comment or to tell him that she doesn't understand, but in the end she says nothing and Jack doesn't inquire—fuck it, he's on a roll and he won't be stopped.

The rush of ideas and plans that are coming to him now are far too important to be delayed or ignored. He turns back to his pacing, absentmindedly noting the worrying sound of scrambling up in the rafters above. "Even if I can't take it off the track, if the department store proves to be a bust then we can always move on from here. That's a nice reassurance to have. But for now, we have to focus on getting over there in the first place. We need to find another chemical thrower and some more liquid nitrogen, or else an updated version of my Winter Blast. Oh, fuck," he swears, and stops in place as the realization hits him. "No, we'll have to do with the chemical thrower. It's sure as shit not the safest route, and if wherever that thing takes us turns out to be another dead end then we'll truly be fucked, but it's the best option. We'd need ADAM for the Plasmid, and I'm totally out—wait. Wait, no, that's a terrible idea," he dismisses the notion as quickly as it had come, not stopping to wonder  _when did 'I' become 'we'?_ and other stupid questions that didn't need answering in his mind. He finally stops talking then, his mind churning with the thousands of ways this could play out and the dozens of horrible fates that would await them both should they fail in their mission.

It's only when the kid—no,  _Sally,_ Sally—it's only when Sally speaks up, so hesitant yet determined, that he even remembers that he's not alone, and that someone is actually counting on him to A), not die and get them both out of here, and B), she's probably scared as fuck right now, being out of her element and without a Big Daddy to protect her, and the only thing she has left is  _him,_ and he should probably set a good example or something and at least pretend that everything is going to be alright, for her sake. He can do that. But, kids are a lot smarter than adults give them credit for, and he remembers that despite being only six, Sally is definitely no dummy. She may not know exactly what's going on at all times, but she's perceptive enough to know that something isn't right. Like right now.

"I have ADAM," Sally mentions, quietly, moving closer to him. Her gaze drifts up above, and it's then that he remembers that he'd heard a noise up there. So they weren't alone after all, and that wasn't just his own paranoia. He beckons her closer, lowering himself on his haunches so that he's eye-level with her before encouraging her to continue. "I don't know how much I have left, but if we really need it, I can find a…" she stops, struggling to find the word to match the image in her head. After a moment, she simply shakes her head. "I can give you some if we need it. Do we have to make more ice?"

"Probably." He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to look at Sally directly in the eyes. Those eyes still freak him out, if he's being totally honest, but this still has to be done. "Look, I really appreciate that, Sally. I know you don't want to, and to be honest I don't want it either. I've made a new plan, one that doesn't suck where it matters most, I promise."

To her credit, she at least pretends to look like she believes him. "Okay. So what is it?"

Jack thinks for a moment for the best way to explain this to her, and then decides  _fuck it_ and tells her what's what. Throughout, she does appear to be confused at times, but ultimately she nods when asked for approval and happily announces that this plan doesn't suck, though whether or not she can be taken for her word is still somewhat unclear as she still appears a bit lost. He thinks about explaining again, but he hears more metal clinking from up above, this time accompanied by some low muttering, and thinks  _you know what, if she has questions I'm sure she'll ask. Kid's not_ _ **that**_ _stupid, after all._ He grabs her arm and gently hauls her closer so that she's practically glued to his hip and waits for the sound to return, hand reaching for his pistol.

"Mister Jack?" Sally asks cautiously, noting the movement. "Are we in trouble?"

" _Bring us the girl, and wipe away the debt. Bring us the girl, and wipe away the debt! Bring us the girl—_ " and so on and so forth, the husky, mutated voice of a demented once-human drifting down from the rafters above and sending an ominous chill down Jack's spine. Judging by the way Sally shifts uneasily beside him, she's felt it too. But she perks up once the—he's going to say it's a woman—speaks again, tilting her head in an odd manner not unlike the way she does when she's about to sass Jack.

"Pretty lady?" she murmurs, quietly, more to herself than Jack, but he hears it all the same; he brushes it off a tad uneasily, noting that that was the same name she had given her previous savior from Atlas' men, and the same woman who had put his life in Fontaine's hands. Perhaps that was simply a title, like mister or missus? He doesn't have time to ponder it further—the woman is moving again, whispering something else now, something about twins. Jack doesn't pay it mind, and looks to the rafters to see something scurrying up there, looking down at them through what he can only imagine is a look of pure rage. Why she doesn't just come down here and get it over with he has no idea. She seems perfectly content hissing threats down at them, circling around the same spot like a vulture while the sound of metal scraping against metal fills the damning silence. Sally shifts uneasily next to him, perhaps aware of what the sound means, or otherwise simply aware of the fact that Jack is on guard and Jack on guard is never a good thing. She grabs the hem of his sweater just in case.

They stand rigid for a few minutes more, listening to the deranged madwoman mutter and curse some more and move about above before the sound fades and the clinking of metal is distant, and he almost sighs with relief before thinking better of it. He looks down at Sally. "She's gone. We'd better get going. We need to find some more liquid nitrogen if we're ever to make it out. Come along."

* * *

Another hour or so of searching yields little to no results, though it does present Jack with a basic layout of the place and a few more rounds of ammo. He also finds a discarded shotgun, used by its previous owner to blow their own head off. Of course the damn thing's empty, but unless he's experiencing auditory hallucinations again he's pretty sure he's heard those creepy fucking clowns singing somewhere in the distance. He doesn't make it a point to look for any, seeing as he's stocked up well enough on his pistol ammo and he's still got a couple of EVE capsules left, but he does keep an eye out. Sally stays close by him for once, perhaps spooked into obedience by the sight of the splicer earlier. She still talks though, and offers her opinion with her usual six year old sass as Jack continues to talk out loud for the duration of the search.

"Do you think…?" she asks at one point, picking up an empty chocolate box and opening it. She frowns when she finds a pistol clip instead, which Jack almost immediately takes from her. She glares at him as she reached for another box.

"Not usually, no," he jokes when she doesn't finish her question, then sighs when she looks at him curiously. "Eh...nevermind. What are you thinking about?"

She shrugs after a moment, putting the lid back on this (empty) box and shoving it aside as she reaches for another. "Doesn't matter." She pries the lid off of this one and coos in delight as she comes up with a few slightly melted truffles. She begins to unwrap one while Jack debates stopping her.  _I mean, she's practically immortal, right? If a gunshot to the head won't kill her, surely food poisoning won't. Too late now, anyways—_ she's devoured it and is reaching for another. Jack suddenly remembers all the old and stale shit he's put in his body and decides that maybe old truffles aren't the worst thing she can eat. Still…he takes the box from her in an attempt to coax her out of silence. "Kid, is there something wrong?"

" _You're_ wrong."

" _Kid._ Sally. Is there something you want to tell me? You seem troubled. If it really is nothing, then just say so, but don't lie to me."

"...Do you think she followed us? The...the bad lady. From up there." She cautiously points upwards, waving her index finger sideways to emphasis her point.

Jack looks as well, dread beginning to claw its way up through his chest as he expects to see the sulking, deformed figure leering down at them, but thankfully a quick glance around yields no results. "It doesn't look like it. I'd still be cautious, though."

Sally nods, seemingly satisfied with this answer, and continues rifling through candy boxes. Jack is my so easily placated, and as they exit the dilapidated little shop, he keeps a close eye on the ceiling.

* * *

"Mister Jack?"

He doesn't give any kind of response at first, too absorbed with studying the YOU ARE HERE map in front of him for another way around the burst pipe, but it's faded and etched out in places and the dried blood coating the lower left corner really isn't helping. He tries to follow possible paths with his finger, but if it's not a dead end, it's a place he knows is blocked by rubble or debris, and if it's not that then the next part is etched out with what looks like a meat hook not unlike the kind used by enemy splicers. He sighs in frustration as he comes to yet another dead end, and only when Sally tugs on his arm nervously does he remember he was asked something.

"Hm? What is it?"

He didn't mean it to sound so...blunt?—but she doesn't seem to mind, twiddling her thumbs as she stares off into the distance. "I just remembered something that can help us. The...um…" here she flexes her fingers and looks at him hopefully, praying that he gets it without her having to tell him. He shakes his head.

"What is it, Sally?"

"I hear her again," she says after a moment of debating her words. "I think she's watching us. From up there." After watching his expression turn from impatient disinterest to surprise hesitance, she takes a shaky breath and points upwards. "She's waiting."

He looks up, scanning the rafters for the deranged splicer and listening closely. After a few moments, he hears it too—low growling, the scraping of metal against metal, and the undeniable snarling heard in every horror movie ever. Jack finally spots it, crouching low with heated meat hooks in hand, bashing them against open air as if his skull was just in reach. He can't make out many features, seeing how far up she is, but he's at least forty percent certain that it's a she. Jack pulls Sally closer to him, and they both wait with baited breath as the figure moves around a bit, murmurs some more, and at one point bangs her hooks against the railing. Finally, she gets bored and sccuries off, and Jack turns to the girl.

"Good eye," he comments, more shaken than he should be. He's faced worse, and he knows it. That thing has got nothing on Big Daddies or Fontaine. Still, it unsettles him greatly that he's seen that splicer before, and all she seems to want to do is observe. She'll want to square up eventually, they all do. He just has to be ready.

Sally merely nods, far more shaken than he. He remembers reading something in someone's notes, way back in the Little Wonders Educational Facility, about the girls being some sort of hypnotised—that was the only way they would cooperate. The scientists were largely unsure of what the girls saw the world as, but they knew that the only time the girls were broken out of their trance was in moments of extreme emotion, such as anger or fear. Jack wonders if she really knows what's going on here, or if she's still trapped in her own miniature version of Wonderland.

"What color is the floor?" Not a very intelligent first question, but he doubts any kind of compelling hypnosis has a blood-caked, tile-cracked floor.

Sally starts. "Huh?"

"The floor. Look down. What color do you see?"

Sally gives him a weird look, but the effect is lessened somewhat by the bottomless yellow eyes. "Gray," she finally declares, then pauses. "There are some weird stains on the floor, too. I don't know what they are. Ketchup?"

"I see," Jack says uneasily, the simple sentence telling him much already. "And what color is my sweater? Am I wearing one?"

She tilts her head to the side, frowning. After a moment she says, "I think your sweater used to be yellow, but it isn't anymore. It's all gross and slimy. Yuck." She makes a face at that, or tries to. It comes off more adorably disgruntled than disgusted. Well, he can't argue with that. He nods.

"Okay, final question: take a good look around, and tell me what you see. Just describe it as best you can."

"I don't think I can," Sally admits after a couple of seconds, frowning again. She takes a long look around for emphasis, making sure Jack is watching her bizarre expressions. She throws her arms wide. "I can't see anything! It's too dark in here. And it smells funny, and the floor looks weird and has ugly ketchup stains and there aren't any windows, so everything is dark...and...everything is dark. It's so dark and scary. I'm glad I'm with you, Mister Jack. I don't like it here."

She finishes by moving even closer to Jack and peering around his sweater to glare at some corpses slumped by the far wall. She doesn't say anything else, not to him at least—she mutters some more to herself about something or another, but Jack isn't listening. He's too taken aback at the wealth of information provided to him through those few simple answers, and he shuts her out for a moment as he takes the time to process it.

First, she isn't in fact hypnotised, at least not the way he'd read about. That's not necessarily a good thing—he's kind of been going through this whole unfortunate endeavor under the impression that at least his diminutive companion wasn't seeing things in as bad of a light as he was, but apparently she has, and she's a lot more innocent than he's ever been, so she's probably scarred for life now. What is this weird feeling gnawing at the pit of his stomach right now? Is that guilt? He can't tell. What about her situation does  _he_ have to feel guilty for? He didn't turn her into a Little Sister. He never intended to meet and bring her along on this insane jaunt. It's not his fault. Sure, he's got things he's not proud of, he's got skeletons in his proverbial closet. Who doesn't? But this...he's not responsible for this. For  _her._

Is he? He stores the question away for later, fully knowing that he'll never purposefully call on it again.

Back to the matter at hand. Second, that means that everything that's happened so far, and everything they've seen, she's fully experienced. She knows where she is, and while she may not have complete awareness, she knows more about what they're doing than Jack had thought. He just wonders why she didn't say something sooner. And that, he realizes, is another thing. How did this one break the hypnosis? He's fairly certain that the others were under the same spell, if their cries during battle and their idle chatter were any indication. He knows that the spell can be broken by healing the girls, Tenenbaum had told him as much, but he hasn't cured this girl yet. He wasn't planning to, either, not until they got to the surface. The benefits of a practically indestructible little girl far outweighed the cons—a lot of time would be saved if he didn't have to constantly move her out of the way of battle, constantly check her for wounds, and spend every second making sure she doesn't die, because she can't. It's as perfect of a situation that he's going to get in this entire thing. All that aside, though, she seems like a perfectly normal Little Sister, but with situational awareness. Perhaps being taken out of her element had jarred the hypnosis somehow. As far as he knows most Little Sisters don't have their Big Daddies going rogue on them and team up with a morally ambiguous... _something_ to protect them instead. So maybe this girl is special after all, in a way. She's the first one he's saved. The first girl, and in fact the first person ever, he's felt a connection with, small and uncertain though it may be. The first real spark of hope he's had of getting out of here in a long while.

Sally is still mumbling, he realizes when he finally pulls himself out of his trance, and when he looks into her soulless yellow eyes, he realizes, and perhaps truly understands for the first time, that maybe they're not so soulless after all.


	8. Chapter 8

"I still feel like we're being followed."

"We're not being followed, please shut up for five fucking seconds so I can think."

"The bad lady followed us before, she's following us again. Just you wait and see, she's coming."

Jack takes a long, deep breath, trying to clear the anger from his system. And then he does it again. And again, and again, until he feels like he's about to fall over from dizziness. He opens his eyes again after several moments, and treats the girl to his best fake-sincere smile, which in reality is more of a pained grimace. Whatever. "Kid. Sally. I know she's following us. I can hear her up in the ceiling. But it's been a long while and all she's done is watch us and talk to herself. She's not coming down from there anytime soon, and if she does, I have the tools necessary to take her out. She won't be a problem if she decides to be a threat. Now.  _Please_ shut the fuck up so I can hear myself think." The splicer hadn't done anything but follow them since...God, he didn't even know. It must have been a while though, but she hasn't done anything to convince Jack that she's a priority threat. She just...sits up there, following them as they make their way through the department store. Never attacking, or talking, or even making a sound as she moves. She's climbing around the rafters, making sure she's always on top of them. Jack knows that just because she hasn't attacked doesn't mean that she's not just as dangerous as any other splicer, but if she's not trying to cut his head off, he'll leave her alone until she ultimately gets bored.

But the little brat is nowhere near as content as he with letting the matter slide. She seems to find it necessary to remind him every ten goddamn seconds that the splicer is following them, she's armed, she's gonna hurt them, blah blah blah. Yeah, kid. He fucking  _knows._ But she's not right now, and so instead of finding this information helpful he finds it very,  _very_ annoying. Subtle glares and repeated "I know"'s certainly aren't helping, either.

"If you know, why aren't you doing anything? She's right there, up in the ceiling," she points upwards, as if this is the first time she's mentioning the splicer's exact location. It's more like her tenth, and he's getting pissed.

"I know."

"I don't wanna get hurt!"

"That's physically impossible, but go off I guess."

Sally huffs beside him, clutching his yellow sweater sleeve harder as she struggles to keep up with his fast pace. He supposes he could just lift her on his hip again, save time and what's left of his sweater, but he doesn't feel like it. Also, this sweater really is gross, she's right. If they happen to find a clothes department somewhere around here, he's getting new threads. Maybe something with a vest. Now  _that_ would be classy. He thinks he saw a clothing store a while back, actually. Perhaps they could stop there soon. Maybe after the women's shoe store they're currently searching in.

His fashionable musings are interrupted by yet another tug to his sweater. He glares down at the source. Distantly, he realizes that he's kind of being a dick to the poor thing, even though she's almost done nothing wrong—since the major revelation that she's just as situationally aware as he is, he's kind of had trouble keeping his thoughts straight. He just needs five seconds to sit down and absorb the facts, but they don't have five seconds, and so all of his emotions are bottled up inside him right now, banging against each other and manifesting themselves in the form of unchecked rage and petty aggeression. Super healthy, he knows. "If you're going to tell me that the bad lady is up there again, I'm just going to leave you here right now."

"No, she's not there anymore. Are we almost to whenever we're going?"

" _No,_ I don't even  _know_  where we—" Then  _all_ of what Sally has said registers. "What do you mean she isn't up there anymore?"

"She's gone. She left. Are we there yet?"

Jack ignores that last part and instead casts a cursory glance upwards to the ceiling, dragging the kid along with him as he continues to move towards...wherever they're headed. He's still not sure. He stops suddenly, icy fear flooding his heart as he does a double take—Sally was right, the woman is nowhere to be seen.

"Mister Jack?" Sally asks cautiously, eyeing the ceiling space above their heads.

Jack, instead of properly answering her, grabs her arm and pulls her behind him, firing up his Plasmid hand and gripping his pistol with the other. He searches the rafters above for the splicer woman, and to his horror he realizes that his eyes do not deceive him—the woman is nowhere to be seen. It seems Jack was correct—she'd finally gotten bored and is now probably hiding somewhere in the shadows, waiting for her moment to strike. He tears his gaze away from the rafters and searches the ground level for any sign of her, and finally spots something in one of the far, shadowier corners of the room. He aims his pistol, and is just about to fire, when she steps out of the shadows.

Ho-ly  _fuck._

Obviously, he's seen female splicers before—and some distant part of him is relieved that in fact his forty percent guess about her gender was right, though he fails to see why that is relevant right now. But by God, this woman is unlike any splicer he's ever seen before. Clearly, she's a fan of the mix-and-match—he can see traces of Incinerate, Winter Blast, and some new Plasmid or maybe Gene Tonic that he hasn't seen before spotting what he can see of her body. Maybe Chameleon? Right now, she's too far away to make much out, but as she starts to slowly move closer, Jack can make out a white streak in her otherwise black—or really, really dirty brown or blonde—tied back hair.

The splicer doesn't say anything, oddly enough—Jack is already weirded out by the fact that she doesn't seem to want to attack him, at least not yet. She's just...standing there. Well, moving closer to him, yes, but for the most part she's just  _looking_  at him, as if he's the intruder. Which, he supposes in the grander scheme of things, he is. As she moves into shooting distance Jack can make out her facial features, which are surprisingly mostly intact, save for a small section of her lower left jaw that seems to be see-through. Either that, or it's really spectacular skeleton makeup. Her actual makeup is smeared and mostly ruined, casting her very pale skin and piercing eyes—one blue, one green—in a haunted shadow. Her hair, pulled back into what Jack now sees is a haphazard bun, is very messy, and quite a bit of hair is loose from it. A small, OCD part of Jack itches to fix it.

Something else on her face catches the light—and then his eye. That something is a strange, blueish sparkle on her face, and Jack realizes with a start that it might be frostbite. It creeps along the right side of her face, curling along the underside of the disappearing jaw and crawling down her neck. It creeps up towards her forehead too, and disappears into her hair, covering some of her ear as well. There are no signs of the familiar welts and droopy skin that is trademark for all splicers, either on her face or...the rest of her…

Jack's eyes roam down to inspect her exposed arms, and immediately notes the blueish tinge spread throughout both. Her fingers, which he only now realizes aren't holding the meat hooks she had been very annoyingly banging against the railways above not minutes earlier, are shimmering, slightly translucent and purple. Frost covers all ten digits...nine. Nine? Jack takes another look. She's missing a pinky, on her right hand. The severed digit is covered with a thimble, which is covered in frost like the rest of them. Bandages wind around her left arm, but very poorly—several sections of the blue skin are peeking out, and Jack is extremely alarmed to see that some sections are entirely transparent.

Her clothes aren't the usual type worn by her kind—no fancy, torn dresses with fur collars or once-poofy sleeves for her. Instead she sports a simple dress shirt with black slacks and loafers, not unlike his own, though hers are far more worn out and torn. A patchwork of stitches wind around all articles of clothing, fixing the clothing where it had torn or fallen apart. Jack should probably take a few notes.

All of this is observed and stored in his brain in a matter of seconds. Jack Ryan is a natural at processing and prioritizing information as fast as he can learn it. Something to thank Fontaine for, no doubt. The woman is much closer now, close enough that if Jack shot her right now, or set her on fire, he'd get blood on his clothes, or he'd be able to feel the heat. But, amazingly and impossibly enough, she stops just short of the overturned display case that separates them. She continues to look at him with that same...expression. He knows that expression, but he can't remember the word for it at the moment. He steps back a few footfalls, just in case, taking Sally with him.

The woman stops completely at that, cocking her head to the side, frowning. But something is...off about it. It's not...not aggressive, not exactly. It's not completely friendly, but it's not downright hostile, either. It's just—curious. That's the word. Her movements, her mannerisms, her looks—it's all curiosity. He's never met a curious splicer before, or even one whose first instincts were shoot anything else that breathes, and then maybe yourself. Her mismatched eyes certainly hold that hint of absolute insanity, but she seems to, miraculously, be holding it back. She's just watching. For now. Watching, and waiting. Jack shifts uncomfortably, Sally whimpering beside him.

The splicer's attention immediately snaps to the girl as soon as she makes a sound. Her head turn is sharp and focused, her eyes zoning in on Sally as she takes in the fresh meat. Her head tilts this way and that, upsetting the already delicate bun of hair with the sharp movements. Jack would have bet his life that as soon as that splicer saw the girl, any semblance of sanity she's currently displaying would have gone out the window, but surprisingly enough, she seems just as innocently interested in her as she was with Jack. She tries to move forward, but the display case is blocking her way. Her leg bumps into it and she frowns at the ground.

Jack is unsure what to do here. There's only one thing happening here, but it's so bizarre and unexpected that he's not sure if he should take his chances or run like hell and hope he and the girl make it. The splicer is unlike any of her kind he's ever seen, that's for damn sure, but that doesn't mean she is any less dangerous. She's just like any other threat. As such, Jack slowly makes to pull away from the other side of the display, dragging Sally along with him, who is still hanging on for dear life to his sweater sleeve.

They back away slowly, the woman watching them all the time, her curious expression never wavering or fading as she calmly watches them try to retreat without making her mad. It's only when Sally, unaware of her surroundings, accidentally trips over a discarded soda bottle, landing on her rear and dragging Jack's arm down with her, that things start to go horribly, horrifically wrong. Jack takes his eyes off the splicer for a second, maybe two, and helps the girl up with a frantic " _Sally!_ ", pulling her behind him as she stands. He looks back at the splicer, and feels his heart skip several beats as he realizes the curious, contemplative look is gone, replaced by...he doesn't know what. But it doesn't look good. Jack forcefully drags Sally backwards now, quickly, not caring anymore if their quarry is upset by it or not. He has a horrid feeling that it won't matter much in the next couple of minutes. Best to give themselves the upper hand while they still can.

But…

She doesn't react. Not really, not at first. Her expression shifts from neutral wonder to alarmed and poised for...something. Presumably attack, but she doesn't seem to be reaching for any weapons. She's just standing there, muttering. What is she muttering?

"Sal-ly," the woman is saying, over and over again, at first uncertain and unfamiliar, but the longer she says it, the more comfortable it feels in her mouth, until she's actually saying the words out loud, to them. To her. "Sal-ly. Sal-ly. Sal-ly?" She looks at Sally, a whole different expression on her face. Jack has never seen that expression before, on anybody, so he can't place it, but it  _feels_ strangely familiar. "Sal'ly?" the woman finally looks at the Little Sister, and asks, head tilted like a cat's.

Sally doesn't even bother looking at Jack to see if she should answer—of course, had she of, she would have seen Jack's panicked expression, and him frantically mouthing the words 'no, no, no', and him shaking his head minutely. But, she didn't, leaving her free to cautiously step out from behind her protector and answer the splicer's call—she points to herself, nodding, "Sally."

"Sally!"

Something in the woman's expression clears at saying the name again—hearing it from the girl herself must have triggered something inside her head, though God knows what that could be. Suddenly, her expression darkens, her eyes narrow, and the only word for that gleam in her eyes is 'bloodthirsty'. Jack knows immediately that they've fucked up, and if they don't get out of there soon, they're not getting out at all. Of course, he's fairly sure he can take her—she may look and act different, but a splicer is a splicer—nothing he can't handle. Still, best not to let her get the upper hand, or to put Sally in harm's way. He notices that the splicer still hasn't moved yet, still glowering at them, and takes those precious few seconds to hoist Sally up on his hip and back away quick as he can.

"Hey!" Sally, of course, protests at the rough treatment, and her squeaky cries of indignation are enough to spur the woman into action. She screams, throwing her head back and clawing at seemingly nothing. She fishes her meat hooks out of nowhere, brandishing them threateningly—as if screaming her head off wasn't warning enough. She makes to dash at them, but trips over the overturned display case separating them and lands in a heap on their side. Jack doesn't waste time waiting for her to get up—he fires a shot into her shoulder, she screams, he runs. He turns his back to her and runs for the nearest shelter he can find, which, in a humble shoe store, isn't very much. There are only shelves and round pedestals, neither of which he can really hide behind. There is a closed off room, its doors locked, to his right, but it's on her side of the overturned display case, and besides, he'd need a crowbar to get through all those chains. He abandons the notion and, realizing that he's trapped, makes for the double doors.

They burst through, emerging in the main area of the women's clothing department. Jack dashes down the nearest set of stairs leading down to the first floor of the store, passing the jewelery shop they had already scoped out. He thinks of ducking inside, but remembers there's no cover there either, and if she caught up with them in there it would be hard to get past her to get out. He tightens his grip on Sally and goes through the metal SECURIS door, risking a quick glance backwards to check for the splicer. He doesn't see her, but that doesn't mean she isn't coming. Best to get as far away as possible, preferably somewhere with a Circus of Values and cover. The door has just barely shut when they're both startled by a loud and sudden  _BANG!_ against the other side of the door. Well, so much for losing her. He passes through the short tunnel that connects the store to the rest of the department and another SECURIS door, stopping when he reaches the other side for a quick breath.

"That was fairly uneventful," he tells Sally, more as a means of hiding his shock than an actual attempt at a conversation. He tries to grin, but his face can't quite manage it. He knows she's coming, there's no way she's quitting that soon. He's looking for a place to dodge behind when there's another loud bang from behind him, followed by several more as the splicer tries to open the door faster than the automatic mechanism will allow. Jack adjusts Sally on his hip and prepares to do...something, when the door behind him opens and the woman reemerges, looking absolutely furious. She eyes the girl on his hip and growls, raising a meat hook. Jack fires another shot somewhere in her general vicinity in retaliation. It's too late to get somewhere safe and hide the girl, or himself, so he tries his best to shield the kid as he takes more potshots at the splicer—before he realizes that there's a fairly large pillar he can hide behind right beside him, He ducks behind it, taking a second to catch his breath and make sure the little urchin is alright.

"You okay?"

"I'm scared, Mister Jack. I'm real scared."

"Yeah, I know. Let me take care of this and then you can bitch to me about it for the next ten years, 'kay?"

"Okay."

Jack sighs, reloading his pistol and peeking out from behind the pillar. "I was being funny, actually. Now sit tight, don't let go of me, and if we're both lucky we'll get out of this with most of our body parts." He catches sight of the splicer woman lurking by the SECURIS door, searching for them, and opens fires again. His bullet catches her in the shoulder, and her howl of pain sends shivers down his spine. He ducks behind the pillar again, still crouched and ready for action. The splicer doesn't seem to have caught on to their position yet. Jack intends to take advantage of that for as long as he can.

He rounds the corner again and takes another potshot at the woman, ducking behind the safety of the stone pillar again quickly enough that when she turns to find her aggressor, she doesn't see where he went. He knows it's only a matter of time before he either runs out of ammo or she takes wise, so best to get it over with quickly. The girl won't be harmed much—in this state she's practically immortal, right? He switches to his Plasmid hand, equips Electro Bolt and preparing for action. He looks around the corner again after a few moments, focusing on the place where she was but a few seconds ago, but she isn't there. A spike of panic settles in Jack's heart as he searches for his target, but he doesn't find her anywhere. Not in the rafters, the shadows, or—

Sally whimpers, her tiny fingers bunching up the soggy material of Jack's ruined sweater.

"Kid, quiet, she'll hear us," he murmurs, turning to face her, and coming face to face with his quarry instead, her ghostly smile turning into a malevolent grin as she scrapes her meathook against the stone. Fuck.

He brings his pistol up, quick as a flash, and fires off another shot, but in his shock and fear he misses completely. He scrambles out from behind the pillar and away from the splicer, shooting nowhere close to her position in his haste. He tumbles to avoid a thrown meathook, crushing Sally under his weight, and she complains, but he doesn't care. He stands up, aiming and firing again, but she's taken wise and deftly avoids it, sending another meathook his way. He dodges it, and thinks that's the end of it, but then Sally screams out in pain, and  _come on,_ give him a break already! Alright, new plan—get the fuck away from this asshole and tend to the girl. She's the top priority here, and he shoves down the part of his brain that's asking incredulously when  _that_ happened. Right now, he focuses on Sally—invulnerable, right, but probably scared shitless. As much as he hates to admit it, he needs her as much as she needs him, and if she won't cooperate, well. Game over. He tears his attention away from the splicer and looks for an exit plan.

The way they originally came from is a no-go. The splicer herself is blocking the way, shifting in the shadows, waiting to strike again. If they so much as move in her direction, he'd be torn to bits and she'd get gutted for sure. The way to the women's department isn't really an option, either—the SECURIS doors would take too long to open, and even then they'd just be trapping themselves again. He rolls his eyes at whatever deity's up there, fully intent on giving them a piece of his mind, when something above catches the light—and his eye.

It's a Pneumo line. He wonders...

He looks down at the Air Grabber still attached to his hip, then to Sally, and finally, the deranged drug-addict. He looks around, making absolutely certain that he has no other options, before backing up slowly until his back hits the metal railing preventing him from falling to his death. He stealthily slips his right hand into the Grabber, tightening his hold on Sally and waiting for his moment. Once the splicer is about three or so feet away, he climbs the railing behind him step by step until he's balancing precariously upon it, then, when she reaches out, he jumps off.

At first, they're only falling—then, the same pull that had attracted him to the lighting scone, way back when they had first found the Grabber attracts the thing to the Pneumo line, and they're riding it in style. Both driver and passenger are, of course, terrified, as Jack realizes he has no idea how to get off and Sally is screaming for dear life. He realizes a few seconds later that he's doing the same, but he can't find it within himself to either stop or care. After a round and a half of the Pneumo line, he's long forgotten about why they came up here in the first place, and all he wants is to get off. His eyes catch something below them, and while whatever it is passes by too fast for him to get a proper look, he determines to catch it again. He focuses on the Air Grabber still in his hand, figuring that if they were made to ride the Pneumos, then there must be a way to somehow control it. He squeezes the trigger inside of the leather sleeve, underneath where he's holding on. That does...something, he supposes. A loud screeching noise is heard, from directly above them, and then they're slowing down, not enough to get off, but enough to see the scenery below.

They're circling the Pneumo line around the floor above the entrance, searching for whatever it was that caught his eye. He finds it soon enough, and he blinks a few times to make sure he's actually seeing it. It  _looks_ like an ice rink, with some sort of advertisement billboard out front. He's close enough to read it after a few seconds, and starts when he realizes that that's the Plasmid he's been looking for—finally, some luck. He looks back up at the Air Grabber, wondering how the hell he's supposed to get down for the umpteenth time. He feels around for some sort of catch or lever he can use to accomplish that, and suddenly he's falling for a split second before he closes down on whatever it was again. Sally actually starts  _sobbing_ now, the poor thing.

He sighs, not because of her but because he has no idea how he's going to accomplish this. He has to get to that ice rink, and it seems that the only way to do that is to drop down, but by God, it's a long way to fall. Still, he's survived worse. He makes another rotation around this Pneumo line, slowing down when it comes time to get off, and just as they're passing by the second floor, he flicks the catch and they're falling again. Only, of course, they're falling straight down, and it looks like they're going to miss the floor completely.

_Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit._

They're falling, falling, and now they've just passed the floor, plummeting to their deaths just beside the railing— _so close_ —and then Jack has an idea. He throws his Grabber out and winces when the abbohreent screeching noise plays right next to his ear, but it's worked-the Grabber's blades have caught on the thin bars of the railing and have saved them from a very ignoble end. They won't do so for much longer though, Jack knows, and he makes to secure his grip on his young friend before he moves them both up and over the railing. He grabs, but all his hand is met with is chilly air. He looks down as a sudden spike of panic freezes over his heart, searching wildly for where she'd fallen, but to his immense relief her pale, pudgy face is looking back at him with an equal, if not greater, amount of terror as she squeezes his leg for dear life.

He debates for about half a second whether to save himself or the girl first—then he thrusts his free hand downward for the girl to take. After he shakes it in her face, she gets the message and grabs onto it with the same iron grip as she had his leg, and he hauls her up and above his own head to safety. He then does the same for himself, and it's only when he's tumbled clumsily to his own rescue that he finds he can actually breathe again. He's perfectly content to just lay there on the filthy floor, staring up at the vaguely little girl shaped ceiling, but the ceiling is having none of it.

"Scary," she murmurs quietly, her face inches from his own but her eyes focused on the Pneumo line. "Scary, scary. I don't wanna do that again."

Jack waves her voice away—now that the adrenaline has faded, he realizes just how tired he is. If he can just get a few minutes of shuteye, he promises he'll be good as new. Just a few minutes. "Lemme sleep."

"But the bad lady might come back. We have to go."

"Bad lady?" he moans, finally sitting up. It takes a few moments of memory scrubbing to remember what she's talking about. The bad lady. The splicer. They'd gone on the Pneumo to get away from that bloodthirsty maniac. He scrambles upwards, barely avoiding knocking his own face against Sally's, and scrambles to the edge of the floor, leaning against the railing to see the floor below. Is she still there? He can't tell, and he shushes Sally when she tries to speak. After a full minute of silence, he shakes his head and moves away, dragging the urchin with him. "No, she's not there anymore. I don't know where she went, or why she decided we weren't worth her time anymore, but the good news is that she's gone. Now, what were we doing…wait, hang on," he says, turning again towards Sally as he remembers something. "Come here, let me get a look at you."

He drags the girl into the light with him, getting on his knees and holding her frail face in his hands as he moves it around. He then checks her arms, seeing nothing unusual there either, and frowns. "Hm. Looks like whatever that bitch got you with healed up well enough. You could still use a bath, though."

Sally sticks out her tongue in retaliation.


	9. Chapter 9

**I have no excuse for the dressing scene other than I mentally cringe at the thought of that soggy, blood soaked sweater, how cold Sally must be in that tattered dress, and how just plain gross water logged shoes are.  
**

* * *

They make their way into the ice rink, Jack refusing to hold Sally anymore until he could feel his arms again. He consents to holding her hand, though, though he can't for the life of him figure out why. Well, alright, that's a lie, but he refuses to think about the obvious.

_You're getting attached,_ says some treacherous part of his brain that he's failing to ignore, despite his best efforts.  _You're only setting yourself up for disappointment, you know. She can't stay with you after all this is over. You always hurt the people you think you care about._

"Oh, fuck off," he mutters, and ignores Sally too when she questions him about it.

The place is absolutely freezing, and as soon as they walk in, he can feel the chill and hypothermia settle deep into his bones, and begin to freeze his disgusting sweater. It's not a pleasant feeling. Poor Sally, though—she doesn't have any sort of protection against the cold, not even a soggy piece of clothing. There isn't anything he can do for her, though, not now. He resolves to get her something hot to drink after they get the Plasmid, though—and he winces when he realizes what even that thought means.

_Too late._

He ignores the voice again and concentrates on getting both of them through the maze of frozen splicers, sharp icicles jutting out from various unexpected corners and parts of the hallways, and of course, the actual ice rink itself, which in true Rapture fashion is littered with bodies, these frozen over and most of them missing several limbs. Jack picks Sally up again for this bit after the third time she stumbles over a dead person. She doesn't seem to mind too much, but that's probably because she's getting a free ride. Eventually, they make their way through the mass homicide that no doubt took place here and get to the "Old Man Winter", as it's apparently called—he has to admit, it's a better name than Winter Blast—in the promotional cabinet in the center of the rink. Once there, Jack puts Sally down and flings the cabinet open, only to realize that the very last bottle is almost entirely empty. Jack picks it up, turning it over in his hands and sighing.

"Well, it's not much," he tells Sally, popping the lid and looking inside. There's maybe a tablespoon or so of the stuff left, the dark blue liquid splashing against the sides as Jack shakes the bottle a little. "Not much at all, actually. Probably barely enough to give me the Plasmid itself, and it's drinkable too, which. I didn't even know that was a thing, so that's neat I guess. Well, here goes nothing." He takes a swig, making sure to get every last drop, and dropping the bottle when he feels something happen inside him.

He doesn't even register the glass shatters, or Sally's cry of surprise—he's too focused on what's happening to his hands, because  _what the literal shit._ He flexes his fingers to make sure this is actually happening, and it's not a trick of the light. There's a cold wind circling around his palms and individual fingers—miniscule crystals of ice are within, batting against his skin, though he can't feel it. His fingers quickly turn a disturbing color, a mixed shade of various blues and purple, before they turn completely to ice, dry and immobile. He doesn't scream, just stares in abject horror before a brilliant flash of white light blinds him for a second. When he opens his eyes again, his fingers are completely back to normal, and the wind is gone.

He turns to Sally, still staring at his fingers and flexing them experimentally. He can feel them, they  _look_ normal, but what the hell had just happened? He finally looks up when she tugs at his sweater. "Did you see that?"

"I saw you freaking out and looking at your fingers, but there wasn't anything wrong with them. Are you okay?"

"I…" There wasn't anything wrong with them? There  _isn't_  anything wrong with them. He shakes his head to clear it. "It must have been a hallucination, then," he says to himself, giving his hands another lookover just to be sure. It's still freaky, even if it was just in his head. That had never happened with any of his other Plasmids—maybe it's just something that happens with the drinkables. "I'm fine," he insists, though no one was asking. "I'm fine. I'm good. We have the Plasmid, now I just need to get more EVE to make it active and we can get back to the tram, and we can get out of here. Hopefully this shit works after all we've been through to get it. Let's get out of here for now, though, I'm freezing."

"Up?" Sally asks hopefully.

"You know what, I'm in a good mood," he decides after a moment, and hoists her up as he steps away from the cabinet. Together, they make their way out of the rink, careful to avoid patches of ice and any frozen, but maybe not completely dead, bodies. He shoots a couple he thinks moves, just to be certain.

* * *

There's a vending machine on this floor, across some sort of Plasmid store that mass produced those horrid drinkables. He stops by, counting how much cash he has and being more than pleased that he has enough to buy a couple health kits, some more ammo for his only weapon, and a hot drink for the kid, as promised to himself. She sips it while he reloads his gun, and he decides that since he doesn't know how long it's going to be until they can do this again, he gets something for himself and they take a breather. For the most part, everything is quiet, and it's almost peaceful in a sort of way—it's nice. The hot chocolate he'd bought from the vending machine tastes surprisingly okay, all things considered. He finishes his off pretty quick, but it takes Sally quite a bit longer to finish hers, so he finds himself with some time to think. He doesn't want to, though, because every thought he has right now is about the girl herself, and it's mostly negative in there, so he doesn't bother. He needs a little optimism right now.

He looks at the Plasmid store, more out of bored curiosity than anything else. He sees another of those billboard adverts, but this one isn't advertising the Old Man Winter. Instead, this store boasts of some kind of invisibility Plasmid, with the tagline "TURN EVERY ROOM INTO A PEEPSHOW!" underneath a picture of the Plasmid itself. Jack makes a mental note to keep an eye out for it, just in case. Hell, maybe they'll even go over there after they're done here and look for it. He's not going out of his way, though.

As Sally is  _still_ drinking, seeming in no particular rush to get it over with, he makes use of the Gene Bank next to the Circus of Values, deciding to see which Plasmids he still has equipped. Incinerate!, Electro Bolt, and Old Man Winter. He double checks to see if he has Winter Blast—he  _knows_ he does—but apparently not. He theorizes that Old Man Winter, the much stronger version of the Plasmid, must have overtaken his older version and replaced it. He looks at his hand again, remembering what had happened. If it didn't work out, he could always just not use the Plasmid, he supposes. He checks to make sure everything else is in order before turning to Sally again.

"Hey, Sal." Sal? Where the fuck did that come from? "Sally. Are you finished yet?"

"Yeah," she says after another long sip, smacking her lips in a very annoying way. "I'm done. Are we gonna leave now?"

"Yeah. Grab onto me, we're going on the Pneumo again."

"But I don't want to!"

"Sally, it's the only way to get down. I can't just leave you here, you won't let me, so let's just get this over with."

"What about the elevator?"

"There is no elevator, Sally. If there was, we'd use that, but there isn't, so we have to—what are you doing."

Sally has stood up, placing her thermos delicately beside her and marching past Jack. He follows her with his eyes until she gets too far away for comfort, and then he resignedly follows her himself. She leads him to the front of the Plasmid store, which he can now see belonged to Fontaine's company—seriously, what  _didn't_ that asshole own—and points to, indeed, an elevator, situated nicely between the left side of the double doors and the wall. The damn thing is also broken, and Jack sighs, turning to Sally again. "Sal...ly, there's no getting on that thing. The controls are busto. Maybe my Electro Bolt would work, but—"

Sally steps aside diligently, and, seeing as he already knows she's not going to back down until she sees proof, obliges and shoots the controls with a blast of Electro Bolt. Nothing happens except for a tiny fizzle of electricity shooting out from his fingers. "See? I told you."

"Maybe you need something bigger," she suggests, then points to something opposite them. "Like that."

Jack looks to where she's pointing, and finds a very large poster of yet another one of those drinkable Plasmid things staring down at him. This one is for a bottle of "Shock Jockey", with the tagline...well, the tagline is torn off, literally, and what little of it is left doesn't make sense. He treats the brat to his best bitchface, but she's relentless.

"Come on, Mister Jack," she pleads, actually attempting a puppy dog face. "For me?"

Jack's brain completely halts at that. "Oh, no, no, no. We are  _not_ close enough for that bullshit. I know zippity about you, and as soon as we reach the surface I'm dumping you off at the first orphanage I find. We aren't close, I don't like you, and I'm not doing shit  _for_  you." Despite his almost violent outburst at hearing the one confirmation of his worst fears—well, one of two, which is that the  _kid_  gets attached to  _him_ —he also recognizes that it's a hollow denial, and a contradiction of everything that's happened so far. As such, after several moments spent panicking at his own mental state, he finally sighs, and relents. "Alright, fine. But if we don't find it in this store, we're taking the Pneumo. And for the record, I'm  _only_ saying yes because I hate the Pneumo too. Only reason."

"Okay, Mister Jack." He'd forgotten how sharp the kid actually was, but apparently she hadn't. Damnit. "Oh, and I don't think we need to go inside the store. There's a bottle right over there." She points to behind the counter, where nothing is visible, and while he seriously doubts that whatever bottle is behind the counter is full enough to grant him an upgrade, if it'll shut her up…He turns to the counter, intending to quickly peek behind it for the nonexistent bottle, but finds it balanced precariously on the edge of the countertop.

"What the…" He grabs the bottle, shaking the contents lightly and looking at it in surprise when he hears something splashing inside. He pops off the pointy cap, nearly pricking himself on the damn lightning bolt, and takes a peek inside. There's about one-sixth of the drink left, which while not a whole lot, is a lot better than Old Man Winter had been. He looks at Sally, suspicious.

"Did you put this here?"

"No," Sally answers honestly. He can tell, he just...can. She doesn't look surprised, though, but maybe she doesn't fully realize how rare this occurrence is. "Is something wrong with it?" she asks, moving closer to take a peek.

"No. No, it's—it's just really weird, is all." He hears something in the rafters, metal scraping against metal, and his heart skips a beat. He puts down the bottle and pulls his gun out, advancing slowly towards the sound and scanning the rafters for the splicer he knows is lurking. He doesn't see her, but that doesn't mean she isn't there. He remembers her invisible body parts. Perhaps that invisible Plasmid is one of her indulgences, and she's using it right now to spy on them. If that's the case, they'll never see their deaths coming. After several minutes, he's satisfied that either she's gone, or she's just observing again, and he retreats back to the Plasmid store, picking up the bottle and downing the contents in one swig.

A few things of note: first off, the taste. It tastes like it's carbonated, but it feels smooth, like water, but thick like blood. Old Man Winter had been different—its liquid had been the same kind of thick, but it had tasted like regular water, whereas this one tasted of metal. He finishes the bottle quickly enough, and as expected but dreaded, his hands begin to shake and he experiences another hallucination. This time, sharp, large black-blue crystals shoot out of the skin of his hands like rocks, electricity sparking from each tip to the next in a dangerous spiderweb. His hands shake violently from the sheer amount of pressure they are under, and he can hear the electric buzzing and feel the static even though his hands are far from his face. Eventually, the hallucination subsides, and he flexes his fingers, amazed.

"Well, that sucked," he glares at his diminutive partner, who pretends not to see him. "I suppose we'd best get down there, then. The sooner we can get to the tram, and the sooner we get away from this psychotic woman, the better."

* * *

The Shock Jockey, as it is apparently called, works like a very dangerous charm to get the controls booted up again. Jack stumbles back from the sheer force of it, marveling how much stronger this version is compared to the injectible. They ride down in relative silence, all the way to the second floor, in relative comfort, surprisingly. These kinds of elevators aren't nearly as worn down as the others in Rapture, and they don't smell nearly as bad. Once they reach the second floor, Jack takes Sally by the hand and leads her back the way they came. He stops, however, once he realizes that there's a men's clothing section right by the exit. They'd passed it earlier, hadn't they? He looks down at his soiled sweater, disgusted.

"Sally, hang on a sec, hang on a sec," he says in one breath, pulling her away from the doors. "Hang on, I'm going to change."

"Into what?"

"Dunno. We'll see."

He pursues the options available to him, not intending to be picky—after all, they are technically on the run, even if their pursuer isn't interested in killing them at this moment. He also realizes that whatever he manages to scrounge up is not going to be to his usual standards, but really, all he asks is relatively clean and whole. After some perusing, upsetting the folded displays, and hushing an impatient Sally, he finds a dress shirt and some slacks, but no belt, so he'll have to reuse his old one. He also, miraculously, finds some decent shoes and new socks, though he doubts either will last long.

"How is all of this stuff just sitting behind a counter? Even the shoes? This is absurdly lucky," he mentions to the uncaring child, finding a store bag and emptying the contents. He haphazardly folds all of his stolen goods (hey, who's going to report him?), stuffs them into the bag, and is just about to collect Sally when he notices a rather fine looking vest on one of the display dummies. It takes less than five seconds of thought for him to decide that it's more than enough, and takes it off, adding it to his goody bag. Finally satisfied, he gestures for Sally to follow him again, making his way to the women's dress section where he knows there will be some dressing rooms.

"Where are we going? I thought we were leaving," the girl complains, running to catch up with his already retreating form. "Isn't that the place the bad lady caught us?"

"Yeah, it is, but she's not there anymore." He, of course, realizes that there is a very real chance she could come back, or that she's watching them even now, but he decides to ignore it. Just for a second. "I promise, I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you. I'm just going to get changed, and then we'll be on our way again."

"Okay," responds Sally, though she sounds incredibly skeptical.

* * *

Roughly ten minutes later, and he's already feeling so much better. No longer does the thick wool of his old sweater cling to him, disgusting in both feel and scent, or his pants ripped and caked with so much blood. His shoes are a bit big on him, but he doesn't mind. He knows they'll get ruined soon enough, anyways, with all the muck that's on the floors of this place. He doesn't mind too much, though—he looks pretty sharp, if the reflection he'd caught of himself in the store mirror is any indication. He also realizes that he's in desperate need of a shower—they both are—but good luck finding one of those down here. Clean clothes will have to do for now, and he steps out from behind the dressing room curtain, satisfied.

"Sal, I'm ready. Let's head out, we don't have much time."

He turns the corner, expecting the girl to be there, and she is, but she's holding— _something,_ but he doesn't know what. He tries to make out what it is from where he's standing, but she's trying to hide it from his view. He leans in, snatching whatever it is she's holding while she protests and tries to grab it back.

It's a dress. A white, very frilly dress, with elegant laces and poofs in all sorts of places. He tries to look at her incredulously, but honestly, he can't blame her for wanting something new too. Her dress is ripped and torn everywhere (the bottom of the front in particular looks as though someone just tore it off) and there are strange patches of no doubt blood and some other odd substance that he strongly suspects is bile. Most of her buttons are missing and one of her sleeves is completely gone. The ribbon at the back is in tatters. He sighs, realizing what his conscience is going to make him do.

"Alright, you want some new clothes too? We can do that. But not...not this." He waves the dress in her face, pointing out the frills. "It's pretty, but it's impractical. You're not going to be able to run from bad guys in this. We'll find you something nice and easy to move it, okay?"

"Okay," she says, obviously relieved that he didn't yell at her.

It takes them about five or so extra minutes to find something that suits her and that Jack finds acceptable. As time goes, it's not bad at all, and she's very happy with her new dress that doesn't smell of disgusting mildew and puke. Okay, maybe it smells a little of mildew, but he can't judge, because same. The clothes have been sitting out forever in this department store, what do you expect? At least they look mostly okay—Sally has chosen for herself a simple sky blue dress with a doll collar, and Jack snagged her a matching jacket from one of the display mannequins at her insistence. It's a bit big on her, but it's all they have time for. She's happy, so he's happy. He takes her hand again and leads her out of the store they'd taken brief refuge in, returning to the main area of this section and heading out towards the bathysphere tram.

* * *

The elevator downwards, for of course they'd elected to take that instead of the long way around, gets stuck about a foot or so off the ground. Jack hops down himself, and catches Sally when he convinces her to do the same. They're about to make their way to the main area when Sally tugs on his arm.

"Sally?"

"There are bad men over there."

"What?" Jack whirls around to see what she's talking about, and sure enough, there are more than a few splicers hanging around, batting their metal pipes against the floor, muttering insanity to themselves, or looking around suspiciously for their next target. He pulls out his pistol, ready to take them all on. "Stay behind me, out of sight, and don't get too close to the battle."

"Okay."

He moves forward silently, planning to take advantage of the fact that they're unaware of his presence for as long as he can until things get bloody. There's about eight of them, which he'll admit is a fairly overwhelming number, but he's faced Big Daddies before, so he's had worse. He cocks his gun, takes aim at the first splicer he sees, and fires.

Things quickly, and unfortunately, spiral quickly out of hand from that point. He finishes off that one pretty quickly, and deals with the next two fairly easily, no worries there. It's only after he's tackled the fourth one that things go horribly wrong.

" _Mister Jaaaack!_ " Sally cries from somewhere, and he feels the icy tendrils of fear settle over his heart as he whirls around, frantic, and finds Sally struggling frantically against the hold of one burly splicer, who has a meat hook to her neck. Jack takes aim and fires, but in his haste misses, and he has to duck to avoid being decapitated by a trashcan thrown by another brute. He turns around to fires another shot at a different splicer, but he's unfocused by now and his hands are shaky and he can't breathe, because  _oh God, they have Sally_ —

Something happens, then, and it happens so quick that if what happened afterwards  _didn't_ happen, he would have convinced himself it was all some sort of elaborate illusion. Something drops down from the rafters behind one of the splicers, rips open his throat with some kind of weapon, and steps on his corpse as she lunges at the next person. She—because yes, it's a she, he recognizes her now—launches herself at the next splicer in line, who's trying to fire at Sally so they can have their best player back in the game. She fires a volt of Shock Jockey at the offending inhuman, then fires a single bullet from a discarded gun into his face. Instead of falling down on the ground, though, the body disintegrates into a pile of ash, and the smell of burning flesh lingers in the air.

She tosses the gun as she brings her meathooks out again, and the gun lands at Jack's feet. He quickly picks it up, recognizing it as a more advanced type than his current one—a Hand Cannon, by the looks of it. He doesn't waste much more time inspecting it, simply grabbing it off the ground and pointing it at the nearest splicer, which happens to be the same one she's currently eviscerating. Oh well.

She shocks the seventh splicer, but instead of shooting him like she did the previous one, she roars in fury and slits open his throat and his stomach at the same time, laughing viciously as she does so. She somehow avoids being completely drenched in blood, though there is still a fair amount on her. Finally, it's the eighth splicer's turn, the brute who is still holding onto Sally and the one Jack is worried about the most. He brings his new weapon to the face of the brute, but it's too late—his new murder buddy is on a rampage and shall not be swayed from her path. She throws a meathook in his face, which lodges in his left eye, and he screams, releasing both hands off of Sally to clutch at it. As soon as she's free, Sally comes running down the steps towards Jack, who grabs her and hefts her onto his hip. She winds her arms around his neck and squeezes until he's not sure he can breathe.

The splicer, meanwhile, pounces catlike onto the brute's chest, precariously perching there for half a second until she decides to rip her meathook out of his eye and jam it in his throat instead, jumping off and ripping his throat out with it when she takes the meathook with her. Even Jack winces at the brutal display, and is slowly backing away when, assured that the brute's dead, she turns to them.

Jack points his gun at her, not taking any chances. Yes, she had saved them, but in fairness to themselves, blood is dripping off her face and coating her meathooks,  _after_  gutting their enemies, and she has a feral look in her eyes that he would very much rather not be on the receiving end of. He clutches Sally closer to him, securing him on his hip. He backs away quickly, not caring about hurt feelings.

She's coming closer, trying for a non threatening demeanor, but Jack isn't having any of it. He's seen this song and dance one too many times to be fooled now, and there is no way in hell he's letting the girl get hurt, not after what just happened. "Stay away! Get away!"

She backs away a bit, startled and perhaps a little hurt, but he really doesn't give a shit. "But...friend…"

Sally reaches out an arm, cautiously, towards the deranged madwoman, palm up. The splicer takes another step closer, reaching out her own hand and placing the index and middle fingers of her right hand into the girl's palm. She lowers the arm, pressing down gently into the small hand, and smiles gently.

She abruptly turns to Jack, palms up in surrender. "El doesn't hurt. El is a friend. Look! A present," she murmurs in what she probably thinks is a soothing voice. It's not far off, but it's still creepy. Jack holds his weapon tighter as she present him with...what  _is_ that? He starts in surprise as he realizes it's a new type of Plasmid, the exact one he'd seen an advertisement for back at Fontaine's Plasmid shop. He eyes it warily, not taking it out of her outstretched hands. "A present for friend," she insists again, sounding a bit hurt, and goddamnit,  _fine._

He snatches the Plasmid out of her hands, intending to toss it when he next gets the chance—who  _knows_ what she put in there instead, but when he sees her watching him expectantly, he groans, realizing he has no choice. He puts Sally down gently, pushing her behind him, and pops the cap off of the Plasmid, downing the contents. This one too is different from all the others—it has that same blood-like thickness, but the liquid is clear and tastes somewhat of penicillin. He winces at the taste, disgusted, and is glad when he's drained what's left of the bottle. At least there wasn't much. He drops the bottle, not caring who he scares but feeling a little guilty when Sally screams, and waits for it to happen.

His fingers, one by one, begin to slowly disappear, first the skin, then the muscle, then the bone, and then it spreads down to his hands. That blinding flash of light returns once more, and Jack is left feeling a bit disappointed. Is that all? He expected it to be bigger, more. Oh well. He looks back up at the woman—El—and nods.

"Uh, thanks, I guess."

"El" grins, and by God is it a horrifying sight. He realizes, though, that for some reason she's trying to be friendly, so he sucks it up and grabs Sally's hand again. "Right, well, um. We should be going now. Thanks, for...something. The Plasmid."

El nods graciously, then corrects him. "Plasmids."

"What?"

Instead of answering verbally, she makes a strange motion with her fingers, but when he doesn't pick up on it, she flexes them instead, and electricity shoots out, the sparks dancing along her fingertips. Jack's eyes widen as he realizes what this means. "Wait. That was  _you_? You left that bottle of Shock Jockey out for us?"

"Yes! See? El is a friend!"

"El is a friend!" shouts Sally joyously, perhaps not realizing that she's just marked herself a total traitor.

"Traitor," he mutters to her. He's kidding, of course, but no need for her to realize.

But...she doesn't attack, not like before, strangely enough. She steps forward, very cautiously, still staring at Sally, much like before. She reaches out a hand curiously, to touch the child, but draws back at the last second. She tilts her head in that catlike way, inspecting her closely. Finally, when she seems satisfied, she steps back and nods at Jack. "Friend," she says, simply, again. She looks at Sally again, and tries to smile-the effect is made ominous by that small, transparent part of her jaw. "Little Bird," she almost coos, tilting her head.

"Sally," Sally corrects, sounding scared out of her mind. Jack doesn't really blame her.

"No. Little Bird. Pretty birdy," she babbles, reaching out for the girl, but again thinking better of it and curving her hand at the last second so that it circles her cheek instead.

Jack inspects the splicer closely, studying her movements and expression. Her stance is no longer threatening and vague, but friendly and calm. Her expression is curious and open, no doubt trying for am "I'm not going to hurt you" look. She's failing, but not in a "I'm actually going to kill you" way, just in a "my face is so fucked up that I can't really portray any emotion except for extremely ghoulish, which isn't even an emotion".

She had called him  _friend._ She must no longer view him as a threat, then. Most likely because he hadn't murdered her when he'd had the chance to do so earlier. He's still not sure if that was the right course of action, but it seems to be paying off now. For now, at least. She could just as well turn feral again in five seconds without any warning. But what about Sally? Little Bird? It didn't seem threatening, but you never knew. He decides to let it slip for now.

The woman is saying something to him. He figures he should probably pay attention. "Friend. Ace? No, friend." She seems to like the sound of the word on her tongue. Must be new to her, having one down here. Jack can't really blame her-they are pretty hard to come by down here, after all.

"Hey," he decides to cut in after the tenth "friend'. "I have a name, you know."

The splicer seems excited at that prospect, grinning wildly. Jack's heart skips a beat before remembering that for the moment, she's tame, and she's not going to attack them. "Name?" she asks, the word sounding odd in her mouth. This one hasn't done much talking, he takes it.

"Yes, name. Jack." He points to himself for clarity. He points to Sally next. "Sally."

"Jack."

"That's what I said, yes. My name is Jack."

"Jack, Jack." She seems thoughtful for a moment, absorbing this new information. She repeats the name a few more times, nodding along with her own words. Finally, she's satisfied, and turns to Sally. "Sal-ly."

"Sally."

"Sally!" She grins, then frowns, and then finally, she shakes her head, pointing at everyone as she says their new nicknames. "No. Little Bird. And Ace. Little Bird and Ace. And El." Her manic grin fades to be replaced by a gentle smile. She points at herself now. "El. El is El. That is Ace, and that is Little Bird. El's friends."

Okay, so she's off her fucking rocker. Who isn't down here, themselves included? He finally sighs, breaking off her little speech, and clears his throat for added effect. "What do you want from us?"

The splicer seems to actually consider that, looking between the two of them and all around them before answering. "Freedom," she says finally, gesturing vaguely to all around them. "Don't like it here. Too cold, too smelly. Too dangerous. I want to live, outside. Sun. Air. Sky. Happy and warm. Give me freedom."

"In exchange for what?" he asks sarcastically, knowing that there is nothing this crazy lady can offer them that is worth a damn. Even if it was, there is no way he's letting one of  _those things_ loose upon the world.

"Help. I help. I know the way out. To the world. I show you, yes? And then El can have her freedom, and sweet Little Bird can be free too. You cure her, and you cure El."

"I can't trust you," he says curtly. "You're just as insane as everyone else down here, even if you decided not to kill us for whatever reason—"

"You saved her," interrupts the splicer, and oh good, she sounds  _emotional._   _That's_ going to turn out well. "You saved Little Bird. You are kind to her, save her and soon cure her. She likes you. So I like you. And you are going to sky. So I want to come. I can help, help."

"If you know the way out, why haven't you already gone?" Sally, who has so far been quiet in this heated exchange, asks. Finally, a relevant question. Jack once again thanks his lucky stars that he got one of the smart ones.

"Cannot go alone. Mind...not right. Too broken. Need someone like you, yes? Someone smart and whole. El used to be smart, used to be...not broken. But El is now, and El cannot leave alone. Need help. Want to…" she stops herself, abruptly, then shakes her head, obviously thinking that whatever she's about to say next is worth it. "El wants to be whole again. You take El to surface, you fix El. Make her not broken again. Yes?"

Oh... _oh_. Jack takes a deep breath as, for maybe the first time in an eternity, he actually  _feels_ something for a poor bastard that isn't him. This poor, unfortunate soul. All she wants to do is see the sun again, and have her body and her mind whole once more. He doesn't know if that's even possible, but he wishes it were. She's just another one of Rapture's victims, who went looking for an easy way out and became so fucked up she couldn't even recognize herself anymore. All she wants to do, Jack realizes with an odd pain in his heart, is be herself again. She wants to be normal, go back to the way things used to be. She wants freedom and she wants her self back.  _If only I could give those things to her._

He can't, but the next best thing is shooting her in the face right now and hoping she goes up instead of down, if you catch his meaning. He quickly decides that he'll do just that—bring her along for however long it takes to get every bit of useful information out of her, then just as they're about to head up to the real world, he'll dispose of her, quickly, but effectively. It's cruel and inhumane, he knows, and he actually hates himself for it, but he can't loose her on the world. She's too dangerous, and she'd only be heartbroken when she learned that he couldn't do anything for her sorry state. He swallows back the lump in his throat that forms from that thought, and nods curtly at the splicer, who has no idea of her awaiting fate.

"Alright, you can come. Welcome aboard,  _El._ "


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

 

**Slight warning for this chapter: there is some brutality in the first major fight scene we see in the story. 'El' is quite murderous when it comes down to it, and there is evisceration and limb-tearing. Not too graphic, I hope, but it's a warning all the same.**

* * *

Jack uses his new Old Man Winter Plasmid for the first time to successfully freeze the burst water pipe, much to everyone's relief. Sally grabs Jack's hand as soon as it's available, staying close to him despite her almost immediate acceptance of the splicer—El, he autocorrects inside his own head. Might as well use her name, or at least the name she's given herself. He wonders if El is short for something. He wonders why he cares.

They reach the tram station, at long last, passing through quickly before boarding the actual bathysphere itself. El seems amazed at all the technology just at their fingertips, and reverently runs a hand over the window port once they're inside. Jack notices her severed pinky again, and means to ask about it, when Sally beats him to the punch.

"What happened to your finger?"

"Sally!" he hisses, pretending he wasn't about to ask the same thing.

El looks away from the window and down at her own right hand, inspecting the severed digit in question as if she had never seen it before. "Gone'," she says, showing Sally.

"We know it's gone," Jack intervenes, before she can start rambling again. "Sally was just asking how it happened. How'd you lose your pinky?"

"Oh." The woman stares at her pinky again, flexing what's left of it—not much, admittedly, and she's more moving her hand side to side since there's no joints left in the finger. She seems to make up her mind after a moment, removing the black thimble that's covering it. Jack looks closer as Sally recoils in fear.

"Oh, it's not that bad," he chides, examining it. It  _looks_ like she cut the finger off herself, no way was that an accident or proper incision done by a surgeon. The end of it is crooked and malformed, suggesting unprofessionalism, and the thimble, once she replaces it, sits haphazardly on the finger itself. The only question remaining is  _why._ He's seen splicers do some really weird shit to themselves but this takes the cake. Self-mutilation?

"Did you cut it off yourself?" Sally asks, completely oblivious to how  _not okay_ that question is.

"Sal, don't ask her that," he chides, but El jut shakes her head, apparently unbothered by the question. She shoves her pinky into Sally's face again, showing off her thimble. She looks deep in thought, as if seriously considering the question, and Jack finds himself against his better judgement interested in what she'll say next.

"Pretty pretty," she babbles instead, smiling, and Sally smiles back.

"Pretty pretty," she parrots, and Jack decides to tune out the infant babbling of two people who should really know better.

He turns to the controls, examining the destination selection, and frowning when almost all of the options are gray. That means that the destination can't be reached, and that in turn means that without even looking Jack knows they only have a couple of options. He takes a closer look at the options themselves—most of them are just places in the main area of Rapture, like Mercury Suites or Olympus Heights, residential areas like that. He supposes it makes sense—after all this  _had been_ a shopping mall. Apollo Square, Fort Frolic, and Arcadia are on there as well, all of them gray. The only ones that are lit are to places he's never heard of: Athena's Glory, High Street, and Housewares. El sees him looking at the directory and points to Housewares.

"Housewares? Are you sure?"

"We're looking for a boat, to take us to Lilly Poppy. Mister Jack says we can't use this boat because it won't go to the surface, but...um…" Sally looks to Jac for help, and he fills in the blanks for her.

"My plan is, we find a bathysphere at one of those stores that sells them, somehow get it down and in the water, and ride it up to the surface. No plan yet on how we're going to get off the lighthouse, but at least we'll be breathing fresh air."

El nods like she understands. "Good plan. Bathysphere goes to sub bay, we ride to surface there. Go  _here,_ we find it."

"Sub bay? Do you mean the one in the Smuggler's Hideout? There's no way a private bathysphere company would deliver there. Though—wait, although; private bathyspheres do have a market here in Rapture, obviously, so they'd need a place to put them. Is there a dock or some sort of hub where everyone's private bathyspheres are sent until they need them?"

"No," Sally speaks up, surprising the two adults in the small shuttle. "Private...ba-thy-spher-es are just sent to people's houses and they can have a place for them built in."

"Aaaand you know this how?"

The girl shrugs, not offering up an answer. El, however, nods approvingly, patting the Sister on the head none too gently, though probably not on purpose. "Good Little Bird," she hums, and Sally preens at the praise. Jack rolls his eyes. They'd adjusted to having her around far too quick, or at least she had. He's still wrapping his head around it. Anyways.

"Well, that's something, I suppose. We'd just have to select a bathysphere, provided there's at least one left, select some random person's apartment from whatever grid they have on system there, and then we go get our bathysphere. In theory, simple. In practice, probably exhausting and extremely time-consuming. But hey, we've got nothing but time, so I'll take it."

"Good plan?" El asks 'Little Bird'. Sally nods, giving Jack a thumbs up. "Good plan," El tells Jack, mimicking the action.

Jack wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all—imagine, a disgraced and deeply traumatized freak of nature, picking up an orphaned but immortal little girl who's worth her weight in sass, taking on a city of drug-addicted freaks and disillusioned idealists who want to watch the world burn. People exactly like the disillusioned drug-addicted freak they've just picked up, who's missing a bit of her face and several other essential body parts, and said addict  _doesn't_ want to kill them because she's got enough brains left, somehow, to realize that she wants to see the surface and know that they're her only hope of doing so. What the hell.

He sighs deeply, running a hand over his face and rubbing his eyes to banish the tiredness from them. He needs to sleep, or he fears he'll collapse. Just a few minutes. But he doesn't trust the splicer—El, he reminds himself—not to snatch the kid while he dozes, or for either of them to go off on their own and leave him here.

"Okay. So, Housewares? That's where the Bathyspheres DeLuxe is. You're sure?"

"Yes," comes the simply reply, and Jack, knowing that there's no way he's  _not_ going to regret this, selects the destination and pulls the lever.

* * *

The ride there is fairly short, and submerged in darkness—most of the neon signs announcing the individual buildings had long since been damaged beyond repair, though they're the only part of Rapture that looks damaged on the outside too. It's over almost as soon as it begins, and for that, Jack is thankful—he doesn't want to be cramped up in a space with this splicer any longer than he has to. The bathysphere port they surface in is incredibly poor lit, Jack being forced to equip Incinerate! and illuminate the way for the rest of them. The first thing they see as they step out of the bathysphere is a Little Sister vent, the design far different than the usual ones seen around the rest of Rapture. There's almost nothing else of interest—it doesn't look like they've even surfaced in an official dock, actually. It's too dark to actually see, and the light from Jack's Plasmid isn't helping much, so he decides to put the splicer in front of him as protection against unseen threats, grab Sally, and begins to lead the charge out of there.

"El, do you have any idea where we're going?" Jack asks after a bit of wandering and mostly blindly following the splicer in front. She seems to have some solid idea, which is more than he has, but he'd rather not put his and the girl's life in her hands if he can help it. If there's some way to wrestle back the bit of control he'd lost, he'd like to know.

"Toys," is her brilliant response. Jack can only assume there's a Toy Department somewhere, and that's connected to wherever the Bathyspheres are. He nods, accepting this, and they continue on.

They're only interrupted once, when Sally shrieks and backpedals furiously away from whatever it was that had startled her. Both Jack and El quickly whip out their weapons and point them in the direction Sally had run from, but all that's there is a puddle of water. Jack immediately understands, and turns to Sally, holstering his gun.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. It's just water. I know you don't like it—here, I'll carry you, okay?" he coaxes, reaching out to take the girl in his arms. She cautiously but quickly jumps into them, and Jack once again adjusts her on his hip. He means for that to be the end of it, and for them to continue forward, but El points at the girl, confused.

"Little Bird?" she asks, worried.

"She's just scared of the water," he explains, sidestepping her and moving forward. There is more light here, coming from somewhere up above—they should head that way, he thinks.

"Water? Why?"

He waits for a moment to see if Sally will answer that, since he actually doesn't know himself, but when she just burrows her face farther into the crook of his neck, he sighs, turning to El. "I don't know, and she doesn't feel like talking. It's not really your business anyways, so why don't we continue forward and get this over with, eh?"

"Eh."

Jack sighs again, turning back to his intended path. This is going to take a while.

* * *

They emerge, after a short while, in a main area, leading to places with signs that he can't read, either due to them missing several letters, their neon going out, or they're just out of sight. The place is, of course, littered with bodies, but they're only here and there—the puddles, however, are not, and Jack groans as he realizes he's not going to be able to set Sally down anytime soon.

"This way," their new companion whispers loudly, defeating the purpose of a whisper. "Come. Be quiet."

Having really no other choice, they follow her through the area, Jack making a note of the basic layout in case something happens after on and they need to retreat back here for whatever reason. Probably won't happen, but you never know, right? She leads them around the left side of the giant centerpiece of the area, and right behind it is a metal SECURIS door.  _APPLIANCES/TOYS_ is written in black on a white, illuminated background above it.

"Well, that was easy," Sally remarks, pointing upward at it. "Now we just need to find the bath—uh—ba-thy-spher-es."

"Sal, you don't have to say it like that."

"That's the only way I know!"

As they make their way further into this section, Jack teaches Sally the proper way to say it, enunciating clearly and making her say it back to him so she'll get it. El, meanwhile, leads them through this particular maze of death and water to the Appliances section, which is as waterlogged and dimly lit as the rest of Rapture. He's not going to be a dick and put her down now, forcing her to get over her fear, but damn, are his arms tired.

They make their way down a grand staircase, Jack more than once misstepping due to the lack of light, and finally, they're in—and that, apparently, is where the real trouble begins. El swings out an arm, whacking Jack in the stomach and depriving him of several seconds worth of air. As soon as he gets it back, he glares up at her, wondering what the big deal is, but she shushes him loudly, pointing to something rounding the corner. A splicer.

Jack rolls his eyes, getting his gun out again, pointing, and shooting the thing in the face, effectively killing him, loudly but quickly. He looks at El.

"I'm good, thanks."

El, if she's displeased by his brashness, doesn't show it, merely nodding and continuing forward. Jack takes extra caution not to step in any of the water surrounding the bottom of the staircase, but it's difficult. Even so, he manages, and they continue onwards through the maze of display pedestals and overturned display cases, until El stops them again.

"More," is the word, and Jack cocks his head, confused. She puts a finger to her lips and then points ahead of them, revealing a group of unusual looking splicers lurking ahead of them. Jack takes out his gun, cocks it, and prepares to fire, but El pushes his raised arm down and shakes her head. "No. Too many. Too strong. I will kill." And with that, she abandons them and climbs the nearby art decor to disappear into the rafters.

It's not in Jack's nature to let someone else do all the work—he needs to be sure that the damn thing is getting done, and well at that, but he's seen her fight once before, so for now he's barely content to let her do her thing and hide himself away with Sally. He moves towards a display pedestal, with a happy mannequin showcasing their brand new oven on top, and ducks behind it, shushing Sally when she speaks.

They're closer to the group of splicers now, close enough for him to get a good, close look at them. He notices that like El, they don't bear the usual trademarks of the normal splicer. Their skin isn't droopy or lumpy, though it is discolored, and in some parts is gone completely. Not like El's skin, though, where it's simply completely transparent, but the skin looks like it's eating away at itself, revealing the raw muscle underneath. It's a disturbing sight, especially when one of them reaches up to adjust their mask, but it falls off, revealing that almost their entire face is muscle.

Jack waits for a few seconds more for El to do her thing, and he's just about to jump out and do the damn thing himself when she strikes, dropping suddenly from the rafters and landing on one of the ones who had wandered away from the group. She sinks her meathooks into his back, tearing them away just as quick, and repeating the process several times while he screams in agony. His screaming, of course, catches the attention of his buddies, and though it's too late for them to save him, they attack anyways. El is quick to fend them off, back-flipping off the tattered corpse and swinging a meathook into the nearest one's eye, and saying that she's about to repeat  _that_ particular party trick, he clamps a hand over Sally's eyes and ignores her protests. As promised, as soon as he gets close, she grabs her meathook from his eyeball and rips it out along with his left eye. Disturbing, but fascinating. He moves himself and Sally closer behind the display pedestal, hoping that he doesn't need to get involved.

She rips out the throat of another and eviscerates him while she slashes the face of a different one, ducking when both collide in an attempt to dash  _her_ to bits. She rolls out from between them, slashing another face—he can't tell whose from his vantage point. She rips out that someone's nose with her meathook and laughs maniacally when he clutches at it, screaming in pain. Jack winces, though he feels no sympathy for the splicer. His hand is still covering Sally's face, but he's not paying much attention to that, so she's probably already peeking through his fingers. El continues her assault on the noseless fellow, jabbing her hook into his skull, and Jack looks away then so he doesn't know  _exactly_ what happens, but he's dead and she moves on to the second to last splicer.

She jumps on his back, perching there catlike as she peers at him curiously. Her hooks are sunk into his shoulders, securing her there despite his thrashing and bucking. El has a surprisingly strong grip, and uses it to her advantage—she tears one of her hooks out and uses it to jump higher onto his shoulders, taking the other hooks with her as she does. She forward flips and turns, slashing his chest and sinking it into a particular spot, wriggling it in further as the splicer attempts in vain to stop her. She stabs him in the neck to stop him, and as his hands fly up to stop the sudden and urgent flow of blood pouring from his neck, she jams the hook into the same spot and rips out an actual organ, though from his vantage point he can't say exactly which one. He  _thinks_ it might be a kidney, or a liver. Who knows, who cares.

He actually feels a bit sick, watching her brutal and vicious assault. There is more blood on her clothes and face, dripping from her meathooks along with small chunks of people. Her half disappearing smile is made all the more sinister by the not evil, but incredibly disturbing grin spread on her face. He can only imagine how Sally feels—he doubts she's ever seen this level of brutality before. He certainly hasn't, and he's seen a lot since he came down here.

The last splicer cowers before her, pleading for his life, and she kicks him to the ground, standing over him and tilting her head birdlike as if unsure what to do with him. Or perhaps she's considering which bloodthirsty method of execution to choose. Either way, she doesn't move for a few long seconds, enough to give the splicer pause and believe for a foolish second that she's not going to do anything. Jack shudders as he realizes that had he been a bit more foolhardy, and if he hadn't had the girl with him, he might not have been spared either. He probably could have fended her off, sure, but he wouldn't live to tell about it. He's suddenly very glad she's on their side.

The enemy splicer, in a rare moment of semi-cognitive thought, kicks El's legs out from underneath her and jumps up, brandishing a gun in her face and yelling something Jack's not even sure is English. El is quick to react, proving yet again that she's not as simple-minded as the rest of her kind, and pulls out a gun from somewhere and shoots him point blank in the face, causing his head to literally explode all over her face. Every threat neutralized and her new friends safe, she returns to them, taking the consideration to wipe her face on the dress of one of the display mannequins.

"All better," she announces, as if they didn't get the message. She crouches down next to them, bopping Sally gently on the nose as the girl separates herself from Jack. "El is a friend."

"Yeah, we figured as much," Jack responds after a moment, still slightly shaken by the merciless display. He'd seen and done some serious shit, but he's never ripped out someone's organs before, just filleted them alive.

"All better," Sally mimics to El, her loyalties clear. Whatever happened to the whole bonding thing they'd had going before El had showed up? He thought they were getting somewhere. He shakes his head, interrupting the conversation before it can go further.

"Yeah, all better. So there's no more splicers. Next time, let me do the killing, alright? I won't make such a show of it, and it'll be far easier to just shoot them and go. None of your fancy acrobatics."

El cocks her head to the side as her gaze shifts from Sally to himself, watching him curiously even though he's not doing anything. He endures this for all of five seconds before standing up, stepping over her and Sally and turning back towards them. "If that's all the splicers for now, then we'd best get going. More will no doubt turn up and I have no desire to stick around waiting for them."

El is still staring at him, but Sally jumps up and rushes to grab his hand, squeezing it tightly and trying to use it to pull herself up onto his hip. He catches wise pretty quick, and at first attempts to let go, but of course all that ADAM running through her veins, she's far stronger. He still refuses to carry her on his hip again unless he has to. Maybe his shoulders, but not his hip for a long time.

"El?"

The sound of her name stirs her out of whatever stupor she'd fallen to, and she nods, pointing in the direction they need to go. "This way, Ace."

"Well, lead the way, then."

* * *

They make their way through the showcase floor relatively quickly after that, stopping to rifle through the area for supplies of any kind. They don't stick around long, as Sally is getting curious as to what the deal with the "angels" is and why she's not allowed to go near them, and she's beginning to not take no for an answer. He himself looks over at the bodies a couple of times, but just a quick glance is enough to make him nauseous. He wonders if there's a way to calm her brutality somehow. Either way, they clear the area before long, and they're on their way through a glass set of double doors when El stops, perking up at something.

"What is it?"

"Sal, shh."

"I'm just  _asking_ ," the girl complains, tugging on Jack's hand again. He'd neglected to give her another free ride, as there hadn't been any significant sources of unavoidable water since the staircase and his arms are  _tired._ "Up?"

"No. El, what's wrong? More splicers?"

El doesn't respond—she barely even spares them a glance before moving cautiously forward, as if in a trance, towards one of the open lockers in the Staff Only room they'd just entered. Jack cranes his neck to try and see what she's so damn interested in, but her body is in the way, staring intently at whatever it is that had caught her interest. Jack pushes Sally aside, ignoring her questions and protests, and moves slowly towards the splicer, not wanting to send her into a fit. El pushes the locker open a bit further, running her hands over something hung on the back, and Jack groans internally when he sees it's just a stupid poster.

"El, come on. We have better things to do than look at posters of pretty girls."

"Pretty lady?" Sally pipes up from behind Jack, peering past his legs and up at the poster that's stolen El's attention. She tugs on Jack's sleeve, pointing up at it. "Mister Jack, look. That's the pretty lady. The one who saved me," she whispers, perhaps once again demonstrating her intelligence by realizing it might not be the smartest idea to jar the mentally unstable freak in front of them out of her stupor.

Jack looks from Sally, to El, and then to the poster again in a new light. He has his suspicions about El, that's for damn sure, even if the kid might not realize, but he'll analyze those thoughts later. He takes another, closer look at the poster in front of them, starting when he sees the name Cohen written on it.

_COHEN'S NEW SONGBIRD,_ reads the text over a picture of the man himself, looking all too punchable in his crisp suit and surprisingly no makeup face as he purses his lips into a microphone, eyes closed in mock contemplation. Beside him is a woman, one he vaguely recognizes though he can't possibly imagine where, the text over  _her_  head reading  _PRESENTING...EL_ —and the rest of her name is scratched out, as is the name of the record covering most of her profile and the advertisement at the bottom of the poster.

El...El….

He looks at the splicer woman in a slightly different light now, regarding her with morbid curiosity as a small child would a worm crawling in their mother's garden.

It would seem that El is short for something, after all. Eloise, perhaps. Eleanor? If she does manage to get out of this with her mind, he'll have to ask. That is, if he doesn't shoot her first. Which he's still planning to do, by the way.

"We should get going," is what he means to say, but the words that come out of his mouth are different entirely. "Was that you?" he asks instead, his voice softer than he'd meant it to be. He realizes he's reaching a hand out for her—he quickly withdraws it, accidentally smacking Sally on the forehead. "Before…before."

El looks back to him at long last, sadness in her eyes, but confusion written all over her face. "Pretty," she says, stroking the picture again, almost longingly. "Before, before. Knew her," she tells Jack, clearly not understanding what the rest of them have already figured out. "Knew her, miss her…pretty birdy…" She points to the woman's neck, at a pendant fastened on a choker—

"But that's you," Sally protests, pushing past Jack who, in his shock that he's actually feeling sympathy for someone else, doesn't stop her.

She points at the woman in the photo—now that he's comparing the faces, he realizes that there's no way it  _isn't_  her. Same facial structure, same eyes, same lips. The skin is different, more frostbite and translucency, but everything else is right there if you know what you're looking for. This is her, before splicing and Rapture took away everything she had and everything she was. This is who she wants to be again, who she wants Jack to make her into once more. Jack's heart does that weird twisty thing again, and he freaks out for a second before he remembers that that's called emotion—specifically, sorrow. For another person. Oh, right,  _pity._ That's the word, isn't it? Pity. He  _pities_ her.

"That's you, El," Sally tries again, when the splicer doesn't respond. "You're the pretty lady. You saved me, remember? From the bad men. I saved you back, I gave you my ADAM and you came back. Don't you remember me?"

Wait,  _what_?

Sally tries again, turning fully to El now and tugging on her sleeve, trying to force her to pay attention. No luck. EL is still transfixed on the picture of her past self, looking as sorrowful in real life as she does in the picture. The Little Sister is not to be deterred—she tries again, revealing a bit more incredibly important and relevant information as she does so. "Pretty lady—El—you've  _got_ to remember. I sang to you…"

_Pretty lady?_ Wait just a goddamn second.

"Sally, what the  _fuck_ are you on about?"

Sally pays him no heed until he grabs her upper arm and drags her back before she gets the splicer to eviscerate her in a fit of confused rage. He's thinking El is less likely to do that now that she's got somewhat of an attachment to them, but she's a splicer, for God's sake. He can't be too careful.

"Hey! Mister Jack!"

"Sally, tell me what is going on right now. How do you know the woman in that poster?"

"I told you, it's the pretty lady. She saved me from the bad men." Her tiny, cherubic face is drawn and defiant as she glares up at him, but the effect is lost by his own anger and confusion.

"You said she died. Or, at least implied it. How is she still alive if Atlas killed her?"

"After she became an angel, I found a pointy stick and gave her some of my ADAM. She didn't come back right away, but I waited really patient and eventually she came back. She started crying and screaming though, so I got scared and left. I didn't see her ever again after that, until I found you and we found her again together."

"ADAM can't bring dead people back to life, Sally." Or, wait, can't it? Technically speaking...he remembers reading something about the human body being able to be revived after death a couple of minutes after the heart stops beating. The exceptions and limitations vary from the different ways of death, and he can't recall the exact number of minutes, but if Sally had gotten to her in time...if she'd loaded her up with ADAM within the time frame, then El and this 'pretty lady' could very possibly be the same person, and by extension, she'd also be the Songbird chick in the poster. "Holy shit," he realizes.

Sally nods solemnly, relieved that he  _finally_ understands. "Holy shit," she echoes gravely, to the sudden annoyance of her guardian.

"Don't curse," he says, fully aware that he's being a hypocrite. Eh, he's done far worse. He pulls Sally behind him, storing away the thoughts and theories that having El's identity revealed prompts, and focuses on the here and now—his favorite method of deflection. "Hey, El. We have to get going." He cautiously reaches out a hand and shakes her shoulder, knowing that it could be the last thing he ever did.

Thankfully, it isn't—El starts almost violently, whirling around with meathooks raised and poised for action, but upon seeing her friends, stores them away and raises her hands placating. "All good. El is fine. Just...scared. Ace is saying something?"

It takes Jack a second to remember that he's Ace, and he takes it upon himself to try and rectify that. "No, actually, it's Jack, not Ace. And I was  _saying_ that we should get going. It's unlikely that anyone else is planning on hitching a ride to the surface, at least the way we are and with the tools we have at our disposal, but if you don't mind I'd like to hurry all the same. Just to be sure. Also, the sooner we all get out of here, the far better for our mental health."

"No, you are Ace. And I say yes. Let's go."

Jack is fully prepared to argue with her until he's blue in the face, knowing that it won't do him any good but prepared to try all the same, but she's already left, Sally trailing behind her without the usual skip in her step. He decides to file away the name thing for later, and ask after his only sort-of friend.

"Hey, Sal. You alright?"

"No," Sally admits, looking ahead at El, who is babbling to herself about...something. "She doesn't remember me, Mister Jack. Why not?"

"Why are you upset about this  _now?_ I mean, no offense, but you recognized her as the lady who saved you as soon as she met us back in the shoe shop."

"She was trying to hurt us then," the girl protests, folding her arms. "After she became nice, I couldn't remember if she was the pretty lady or not, because she looks so funny now. But then we saw the picture and I knew it was her. But she doesn't remember!"

"Sal, you have to understand…" Wait, hang on. He has an idea. "Do you remember anything about  _your_ past? Your mom and dad, your home? Your last name?"

Sally considers this very seriously, shaking her head after several long moments. "No. Did I...used to have those things? I can't remember almost anything except for after I met you, Mister Jack."

Jack nods, but spares a moment to roll his eyes. "You can just call me Jack, you know. One of you has to. Anyways, exactly. You don't remember anything from before you became like this. You only really started to remember things when you met me. It's the same for El. She has so much ADAM inside of her that she's gone completely crazy. She doesn't remember where she is, who she is, or anything about who she was before. She doesn't remember you, she doesn't even remember  _herself_. You can't expect her to."

"She's like me?"

"Yeah. Well, maybe not  _just_ like you, but close enough. If it helps you understand."

Sally pauses for a long time, so long that Jack thinks that's the end of it and they continue walking, her hand eventually slipping into his as they follow El up some stairs, around some corners, and through a dark, abandoned storage room of a toy store. Eventually, she finally speaks again, and Jack prepares himself for another heavy-hearted and bleak conversation with one of the only residents of Rapture who can't seem to fully grasp it. "Mister—Jack. Why don't you want me to call you  _Mister?_ "

Oh. Well, okay. He'll take this over that any day. "Maybe because nobody talks like that? I don't know, it makes me feel weird. Old, I guess."

" _Aren't_  you old?"

"What? Pfft, no. At least—I don't think so." He takes a brief pause to mentally calculate how old he should be versus how old he actually is. He concludes he's about four years old in reality, if he was created in 1956 and it's 1960 now. Damn. The kid next to him is seven, which makes her officially older than him. Fuck. No way in the seven circles of hell is he telling her that, though, so he goes with his fake age. "I'm about mid-twenties, twenty-three or so. I'm fairly young, nowhere close to being even kind of old."

Sally stares up at him, eyes wide in surprise as she lets her mouth hang open in a very good imitation of a fish. "Wait, how old is  _old_?"

"Uh...I guess around sixty or so."

"Sixty!" Sally uses his hand to lift herself up over a fallen stuffed teddy bear instead of asking him for help. She stumbles as she lands, but she manages to get herself back up again. "Sixty? Do you know anybody that old, Jack?"

"Well...no...not really." He's not sure how old Fontaine or Tenenbaum are, but one of them's dead and the other hates his guts so he's not sure it matters much. He shrugs the questions off, and it seems like that's going to be the end of the conversation when she speaks up again.

"Not really? You either do or you don't."

"Okay, fine,  _technically_ I know some people who may or may not be around that age range."

"And they're still  _alive?_ "

"No."

"...Did you-" she starts hesitantly.

"Can we stop talking about this? Please?" The words come out a bit harsher than he'd meant them, and he winces but avoids looking at her expression.

A few moments later, Sally's hand slips into his and gives it a tight, reassuring squeeze. She says nothing, but the intent is clear.

Damn it, she's growing on him.

Oh, what the hell,  _fine_ , he's ready to admit it to himself—the little brat's already grown on him, way before this point, and far past the point of no return. He still has no idea what he's actually going to do with her once they're out of this—his original, barely thought about plan of dumping her off at the first orphanage he sees is still the most logical, and practical, but it's become far less appealing than the last time he thought about it. He knows eventually that he'll have to deal with all these emotions and the half-baked plans and the mindfucking theories all swirling around in his cranium right now, but  _right now_ is far from the best time to do that. Maybe in a couple of hours, when they eventually have to stop and rest before continuing. He, of course, would love to keep powering on at least until they reach the surface and he knows he's safe at last, but after all he's been through, not even counting the original journey that he'd been through before his brilliant escape out of here—the one with Atlas/Fontaine and Andrew Ryan, boasting a whole roster of colorful characters that had turned out to be equal parts trustworthy and backstabbing. Anyways.

Sally's quiet now, content to walk alongside him and occasionally use him as leverage to pull herself up and over obstacles, which he's fine with. As long as he doesn't have to carry her. Jack falls silent as well, becoming lost in his own thoughts as they finally near the Toys department. He wonders what awaits them there—certainly not the bathyspheres themselves, but El had promised that Toys was where they wanted to go.

He looks up ahead at El, barely visible both in the dim light and on account of how far ahead she is. He thinks about calling to her when she disappears completely from view, having turned another corner, but a few seconds later she pops back, staring at them and waiting for them to rejoin her before moving again.

He goes back to his musings, finally deciding to get at least one of the many nagging thoughts in his mind out of the way while there's a bit of a reprieve. Who knows how long it will be before they can stop and rest, and this particular thing, for whatever reason, won't leave him alone.

The nickname thing.

He still doesn't know what to make of her calling him 'Ace', despite his repeated requests not to, but, as aforementioned, he has a theory. A while back, when they had first noticed El following them, Sally had cautiously called her 'pretty lady'. 'Pretty lady' is what she had also called the woman who had saved her from Fontaine and his goons...and the lady who had given his activation phrase to the man himself. If this woman was somehow the same person, which Sally had said quite plainly that it was, way back in the locker room, then the 'Ace' nickname would make sense, considering the whole 'Ace in the Hole' thing. But what about Sally's, 'Little Bird'? Jack leaves the question behind as he realizes something else about the woman.

She had called him 'Ace', which would of course make sense since she is in fact the 'pretty lady'. But as far as Sally had said, and as far as he could figure, he was already on the surface when that had happened, and she had only given Fontaine the activation phrase. So, unless there were recent photographs of himself down here that were not taken in Rapture, at the time of that event, there is no plausible reason why she should know who he is or what he looks like. It occurs to him that maybe she had heard him talking about himself being the Ace, but the idea is dismissed almost as quickly as it comes.

She couldn't have overheard him talking about it. She had only been following them...well, okay, he doesn't know  _exactly,_ but he knows it was sometime while they were in Fontaine's department store. The only time he had talked about being the Ace was with Sally, way back when they were making their way to Artemis Suites, and even then he had not revealed that he was in fact the Ace in the Hole. He didn't even allude to it. Even if she had recognized him from some photos, she's so spliced up she can't even talk in long or complicated sentences, and she can't remember little details of her past either. He thinks it's a pretty safe bet she has no memory of her past, or any idea who she is or was before. He remembers her saying she missed that person, but he wonders if she actually knows who she was or what she's lost, or if she simply knows that she's not right. He supposes there's no point in asking, but he'd sure like to know. He's just glad he's not getting attached to her as quickly as he had to Sally. Though…

He's drawn rather abruptly out of his musings when El stops, holding up a hand and pointing ahead at nothing in particular. "We're here?" he asks, and she nods, more of her hair escaping from the bun she'd put her hair into. "Great. Let's get through here and head to the Bathysphere's DeLuxe." He makes to move forward, past her since she doesn't seem to be moving, but she stops him, whipping out an arm to prevent him from moving. Once again, it knocks the air out of his lungs. She has  _got_ to learn how to do that gentler. Once he's got his breath back, he turns to her, incredulous. "What are you doing?"

"We stop here for now. Tired, broken, all of us. Need...healing. And sleep. Then we go to bathyspheres."

"No. Hell no. We're going to the bathyspheres now. I can't stand this place any longer, and especially when we're so close to getting out. We can  _rest_ on the  _surface._  I'm not closing my eyes anywhere near you, and neither is Sally."

"You want to die? Want to lose focus and lose pretty head? Get your insides ripped out? Your call. But  _I_  sleep. You cannot leave without me."

"Yes, we can," Sally chirps up, for once taking his side in an argument. "If Mi—if Jack says we aren't stopping, we aren't stopping. He's in charge here."

"Sal, I appreciate it, but she's also kind of right. We don't know the way out and she does, and we can't advance without her." El grins victoriously at hsi answer, and Sally looks confused, but seems to accept it. "But," he begins again, before El can butt in, "I'm not sleeping. I am staying awake, to watch over Sally, and make sure you don't sink your meathooks into her, because again, I can't trust you. Are we clear on that?"

"Clear," the woman repeats, and Jack finally relents.

"Alright, good. We'll rest here for about thirty minutes, scavenge for supplies and whatnot, then we're out of here. Understood?"

"Understood."

* * *

Ace falls asleep within five minutes of sitting down and resting, Little Bird quickly following his example, climbing onto his lap and encasing herself in his arms. El lets the two of them rest, perching catlike on top of a crate not far from them, guarding her new friends. She won't let them get hurt. They will help her, even if they do not like her that much. That's okay. El likes them just fine, especially Little Bird. Little Bird is sweet, and pretty, and small. She is full of precious ADAM too, but El doesn't care about that.

She cares about Little Bird. She suddenly remembers that Little Bird has a name, like Ace, but she can't recall either of them. She sets to work sharpening her tools and reheating them, all the while trying to recall her new friends' names, but she can't manage it. Why can't she remember? She has never been good at remembering. She can't remember her past—not anything solid, anyways.

El remembers...a city. A pretty, beautiful city, floating high into the sky riding on the clouds. She does not remember its name, or its people, or what it meant to her. She gets more flashes of the city sometimes, when she's reminded—some are of beauty and elegance, but others speak of malice and carnage. She did not know at first if it was the same city, for the two moods of the memory flashes are completely different from each other. But she came to realize that whatever this city had meant to her before, something truly terrible had happened to it. She wonders if it was her fault. It does not matter—she is not there anymore. She is here, with Ace and Little Bird.

Ace is still asleep, his mouth open as he snores. Precious Little Bird is curled up in his arms, like a contented cat, and she smiles—or tries to. She does not find it hard, but Ace tells her that her smile is "horrifying". That means scary. She doesn't want to be scary. But Ace is not awake now, and neither is Little Bird, so she can smile all she wants. No one to scare. She reaches out a half-sharpened meathook, bringing the curved side to underneath Ace's chin, and using it to close his mouth. That should stop the drool, she thinks.

She returns to fixing her weapons, and to her thinking—El likes to think. Her favorite thing to think about is her past, whatever brief flashes she can get of it. She likes thinking about the city. She remembers something else, too, about  _this_ place,  _this_ city. She hardly ever gets flashes here. She remembers the flash of the pretty woman in the picture, singing a pretty, sad tune, but she can't remember the woman's name or her song. She remembers a flash of the pretty woman, a piece of metal coming through her chest, her lifeless eyes open and sad as she stares at El. She does not like this flash very much. It makes her sad.

Little Bird knows who the pretty woman is, or was. She will have to ask. She had said that the pretty woman was El herself, but El knows she is just playing a game. Little Bird is silly, El is not the pretty woman. El is El.

El has always been El. Hasn't she? It does not matter. El will be okay again, once Ace brings them all to up above and saves them both. She does not know why Ace hasn't fixed Little Bird yet, but she trusts him. He is the Savior. The protector of all the Little Ones. She used to get many flashes about him, all about him. A man, that man, coming down to this city and putting an end to the spinning wheel of blood. He stopped two other men—she had long forgotten their names, though she suspects she once knew—and he saved the Little Ones. He would not hurt her, or hurt Little Bird. He is good.

Speaking of.

"Oh, fuck.  _Fuck!_  Sally?"

Ace startles awake, sitting up and searching frantically around him for a few seconds before realizing that the girl he is after is lying right in his arms, startled awake by the screaming of her name.

"Mister Jack! What is it? Are we okay?" She, too, scrambles awake, frantically trying to get out of his hold, but in both of their confusion they end up knocking foreheads. "Ow."

"Wait. Are you...are we...what…" Ace seems to be confused about where he is and what's happening. El knows the feeling.

"You are awake," she tells them, sitting down on the crate at last and eyeing them curiously. "You fell asleep, but no worries. You are still alive. Little Bird is right there." She points to the girl herself, frowning when Jack pulls her closer to him.

"M—Jack, I can't breathe," her muffled voice says into his vest after a moment. Ace releases her, patting her head gently and breathing hard. Nightmare?

"Nightmare?" she asks, and Ace turns to face her, his expression angry, then, confused, then calm again. "It is okay. I get nightmares too." She shrugs. "It happens."

"I…" Ace shakes his head, bringing Little Bird closer to him again, and she seems happy to comply, although still very confused. He takes several deep breaths, seemingly getting his affairs in order, and sighs. "Right. Yeah. I, uh...panicked. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

El nods, suddenly understanding. "You do not trust me."

"Not even a little. But I guess...well. Maybe you've just earned some."

"I do not want to hurt. Only protect, and guide. I want out of here. You are best hope—you leave this place, I go with you, everyone is happy. Yes?"

"Yes," he says, after a moment. He looks like he's thinking. El is not sure what about, but she does not need to know. If she does, he will tell her. He is a good man. "Right, well. We're all rested up, save for you, I suppose. Why don't you get some shut eye while Sally and I look for some supplies."

"Good plan," El announces, and stores her meathooks away, settling into a ball for a quick nap. She does not need to worry about them leaving without her. They won't get far, and besides, unlike Ace, she trusts them.

They are El's friends.


	11. Chapter 11

Jack and Sally head off in search of supplies while El gets her fair share of sleep. Jack is still somewhat stunned that she didn't grab the girl and go, or leave them there, or gut them in their sleep, or...or any other number of horrible things she  _could_ have done, but...didn't. He chides himself silently for not putting much faith in her—the poor woman just wants a way out of this life, this horrible city, and she's got enough brains left to know that he and Sally are her only hope. He knows he shouldn't put  _too_ much trust in her, but after what she's done, she deserves at least a little bit of faith.

This area is mostly deserted, but they find a couple of first aid kids, some EVE hypos, and a satchel to put it all in, so there's that. Sally is adamant about being the one to carry all their stuff, claiming she wants to be useful too, and after he adjusts the straps and makes sure it won't fall off her shoulder, he obliges. They head back to where they'd left El, who is still sleeping soundly, and neither of them wanting to wake her, they settle down and begin the waiting game.

Jack takes the reprieve as an opportunity to patch himself up, using the red health hypo almost immediately upon seeing it in the case. Afterwards, once he's fully refreshed from both his sleep and the first aid, he makes sure Sally's doing alright as well. She, of course, is doing fine herself, being nearly invulnerable and all. He then refills his EVE, testing out his new Old Man Winter Plasmid on a nearby puddle since he hadn't really had a chance to use it since the burst pipe, all the way back in the tram station. The puddle immediately freezes upon contact, cool tendrils of icy mist curling up from the new miniature lake. Sally claps quietly in appreciation, and goes over to test it out. It holds her weight, and she has fun pretending to skate on it until El wakes up of her own accord.

After that, they make sure she's in good enough shape to continue, and together they all head onward, El in the lead as before. Sally tries to make Jack pick her up and carry her, but he sees through her act and after a while begins to ignore her completely. They make their way to the main area they'd originally come in, and make to go underneath the staircase leading out, only to find it's been closed off with a large piece of rubble. Jack is about to protest or perhaps complain when El jumps up, climbing it with ease and disappearing on the other side. He looks at Sally, who shrugs, wondering what he expects her to do.

"Alright, fine, you win. For about five seconds. I'm going to crouch down, and you're going to get on my back. We'll climb over together, but then I'm putting you down. All right?"

"Okay. Will you pick me up again when we find water?"

"Yes. But until then, you can walk. You've got legs."

Sally scrunches up her face, showing her displeasure, and sticks out her tongue at him. He returns the gesture, then drops down to let her on his back. As soon as her arms are tightened around his neck, he sets to work attempting to climb the rubble, taking several missteps and at one point having to start over completely. Sue him, he's never really had to climb rubble before. It was always blast through it or find another way around. Or, you don't need to go in there, so why bother? It doesn't help that the little imp on his back seems to weigh a ton, and keeps making smartass comments under her breath. When he  _finally_  reaches the top, he's surprised to find El standing there on the other side, patiently watching him and waiting for them to drop down. There's very little space for him to drop down onto, since on the other side is a two-part staircase and the rubble is right on the lip. He stands on the very top, balancing precariously and as steadily as he can as he removes Sally from his back and brings her around towards the front of his torso, inverting her position. He  _means_ to jump down and land safely on both feet next to El, but it doesn't quite happen like that—instead, he prepares to jump, missteps, and falls, right into El's outstretched arms.

"Hello," she says, because apparently she thinks she's funny. She makes a sound that sounds something like a laugh, and Jack is surprised by how almost normal it sounds. Sinister, yes, but almost human. "You want down?"

"Uh, yeah, that would be nice," he admits, already uncomfortable. Her grip on them is strong, but she's surprisingly gentle when she sets them down, patting his head and smiling. "Thanks."

"Again! Again!" Sally scrambles out of his hold, running back to the large pile of rubble—it looks like an overturned case of display shelves, now that he looks at it again. She tries to climb it again, exclaiming, "Let's do it again, I wanna jump!"

"How about no," Jack says, standing up and picking her up, placing her on the first step of the staircase. "We need to get out of here. The bathyspheres are on this side, and I don't intend on climbing that thing again to get you down."

"El will catch Little Bird," the splicer offers, raising her arms again.

Jack shakes his head. "If you two want to stay behind and mess around, fine by me. I'll just be over there, trying to find us all a way out of here even though I didn't have to bring you two along." He turns away from them and starts heading down the stairs, avoiding the river that's flowing down the steps on the right hand side. After a moment, he hears footsteps behind him, but only one set—he turns around, curious, and sees that El has lifted Sally on her shoulders and the treacherous little imp is getting a free ride.

"Kid," he groans, waiting for them to catch up. "You have  _got_ to start walking. I know you're scared of the water, and I'm not going to make you walk in it, but it's easily avoidable."

"El wants to give me a ride," she protests, placing her tiny hands on the splicer's bun. It might as well not even be there—there's almost no hair in it. In fact, the simple act of Sally placing her hands on El's head is enough to dislodge what little curls are left, letting the ribbon fall to the floor. Jack steps aside to let them pass him, and picks it up, stuffing it in his pocket for later.

They descend the staircase, coming down to what he assumes used to be the showfloor itself. Enormous replicas of child toys, play sets, hell, even actual building parts and advertisements, as well as many sizable rubble piles, fill the area, transforming it into a maze. Luckily, El knows her way around the dark, and as they pass through Jack can't help but feel like Alice in Wonderland, when she'd drank that potion and she'd become ten inches tall. Was it ten inches? He'd never actually read the book, only false memories of doing so. He puts that on his list of things to do if he ever gets out of this place.

They continue through for what seems like an eternity, nearly stepping into abysses, impaling themselves on pieces of rebar, or just nearly knocking themselves out on hidden gargantuan pieces of the store. After a while, they ascend to the second floor of the store again, via another two-way staircase. This part of the floor is mostly barren, with only an empty display shelf in the middle and another one lined against the back wall. The area opens up to a wider one, which is completely free of any debris. The only way out, or rather, forward, is to the left of them, through yet another large pile of rubble and rebar. El moves towards it first, practically skipping, and Jack experiences a sudden wave of foreboding, the feeling dark and sinister in his stomach. Somehow, someway, things are about to go horribly, horrifically wrong.

"El, wait," he says, stopping the splicer in her tracks. "Er, let me get Sally off your shoulders first. We don't want her catching on any rebar or loose debris. Indescribable she may be, but that doesn't mean it won't hurt."

El looks up at Sally, smiling gently, and tickles the girl's chin. Sally laughs, but something about it is...off. The warning bells in Jack's head increase their volume tenfold when she doesn't protest to being lifted off El's shoulders and forced to walk again. He eyes her cautiously, and she returns the look, coming back to him instead and grabbing his hand. She pulls it with her when she takes shelter behind his legs, something she hasn't done in forever—not since a little after they first met. Something is amiss, and as El continues towards the debris, he's about to ask when she beats him to the punch.

"Something bad is about to happen," she tells him, her double bass voice sounding as urgent as he'd ever heard it. It's quite distressing, actually, hearing something so demonic sound so small. Nevertheless, he fully returns the sentiment.

"You got a premonition, or something?"

"A...what?"

"A feeling," he elaborates, but quickly, as the urgent feeling begins to intensify, almost painfully, and he takes a short, deep breath to try and counteract it. "A bad, bad feeling."

"I have a bad, bad feeling, Jack."

"Is it about El?"

She's almost to the rubble now, and they haven't moved an inch since Sally got off her shoulders. Jack looks at Sally, and Sally looks back at him. Suddenly, she understands, and her golden eyes widen in fear for the first time since they'd met, what seems like an eternity ago. "Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh," Jack repeats, and hoists Sally up on his hip in one move, barely checking to make sure she's secure before moving as fast as he can to rejoin El. His heart is hammering inside his chest, that horrid cocktail of anxiety and dread churning around his stomach and clouding his mind. How does he know something bad is going to happen? He just does. He knows it sounds stupid, superstitious even, but Sally has the exact same feeling, so it's got to be some kind of voodoo, right?

It doesn't matter, they've caught up with her. She's been waiting for them, apparently, smiling serenely, and once they're within three feet she gestures to the rubble calmly. He inspects it with a cursory glance—a titanic, circular disk with spikes decorated across the front. Should be simple enough to move. That's not what worries him, though.

"Right, um. Let's move it, then, shall we?"

"Jack, I don't think that's a good idea," Sally begins to protest, and while internally Jack wholeheartedly agrees, there's not much he can do about it. He steps to the side so that the side of the disk is directly in front of him, and he begins to push with one hand. Of course, he doesn't get very far, only using half his strength and all that, but it's made worse by Sally's protests. " _Mister Jack._ This is a bad idea. We shouldn't go through. We have to find another way."

"Sal, there is no other way. We have to go through here to get to the bathyspheres. Just a bit further, and then we can go to the surface, and we can find ourselves a nice little house and live away from the rest of the world forever. But we have to go through here first." He lowers his voice, so that only she can hear. "I have the same feeling, kiddo. Something not very nice is about to happen, but we can't do anything to stop it. We just have to hope that whatever it is, it doesn't kill any of us."

"But, Jack—"

"El helps?"

Their inner turmoils are interrupted by the subject of them, El peering at the side of the disk curiously, like it had personally offended her or something. She steps beside Jack, placing both her hands on the side and beginning to push. The disk gives way a bit, but not much.

"El will help," she tells them, pushing a little again. "Ace is right, Little Bird. We have to go. Then Ace and Little Bird and El will be free. Yes?"

"Yes," Jack cuts in for Sally, before she can start protesting again. He gives her a warning look, and she finally relents, shutting her mouth and pulling closer to him. He adjusts her so that she doesn't need as much support from his arms, and uses his full strength to move the disk out of the way with El's help. It only takes about a minute, but that minute is one of the most agonizing of Jack's life, mostly thanks to the now near overwhelming feeling swirling in his stomach. It's so strong, he can't breathe—he's never felt anything like this ever before. He can't stand it. He can only imagine what poor Sally must be going through. Once they move the rubble out of the way, Jack takes a moment to breathe, readjusting Sally so she's no longer in his way, and whispering words of encouragement to her. Neither of them notice El already moving ahead, or her coming to an abrupt and sudden halt as she notices something inside.

"Jack, where's El?"

"I imagine she's already gone up ahead. Come on, we'd best join her." He removes the little girl from his hip, setting her down gently on the ground and allowing her to slip her hand in his. He gives it a small squeeze, trying to smile reassuringly, and Sally almost returns the gesture before the forming smile falls completely off her face to be replaced with a horrified 'O'. Jack whirls around to face the rubble, and immediately finds himself mirroring the expression because, suspended in midair on a piece of rebar sticking through her chest, is El herself.

Well...not exactly. Her clothes are different, torn and bloodied, but still recognizable as high Rapture fashion. Her face, and indeed the rest of her body, is surprisingly well-preserved, bearing none of the translucency, frostbite, or even missing pinky that they both know somewhat well. Her eyes are closed, and her face is covered in bruises and blood from cuts that have never had the chance to heal. Her makeup, thought smudged, is far from messy, in complete contrast to El's own. Jack looks again at the pinky finger, making sure it's the right hand, and that's when he realizes this is either a hallucination or...or something. This woman, whoever she was, bears an exact resemblance to El herself, something the splicer seems to have realized, and Jack realizes with a horror he's never felt before that this is the very bad thing he and Sally had been scared of.

El reaches out for the woman, touching her face gently, smoothing two fingers down her cheek. A tiny spiral of frostbite curls down the woman's cheek, ending in a cluster beneath the left side of her jaw, just like El's. Something in her stance changes then, the way she holds herself, the way she breathes, they way she turns to Jack—when she looks at him, with Sally squeezing the blood out of his hand. The way she looks at them...that's not El.

"Get away from her." Her voice is sure, elegant, and cold as the frostbite covering her fingers. There is no naive curiosity in that gaze, innocent friendliness in those mismatched eyes—no, somehow, someway, those are gone, replaced with the purest malice and the most hateful of glares. Pure rage is in her features, usually reserved for their enemies. Never 'El's friends'. But she's not El anymore, and whoever this new person is, she sure as shit isn't their friend. "Did you hear me? Get the  _hell_ away from the girl!"

"El, what—what the  _hell_ are you—"

"Shut up and give me the girl. You can't be trusted with her," she interrupts curtly, impatiently. Her speech pattern is...different, he realizes. More elegant, composed. Longer sentences and more surety when speaking.

Jack is momentarily stunned by this new and incredibly dangerous development, and pushes Sally farther behind him, something the girl apparently completely agrees with. This, however, turns out to be a horrible decision, as it serves to only upset her more. She actually growls, and it sounds exactly like her splicer growl, but this time, there is a mind behind the madness. She produces her meathooks from seemingly nowhere, though he's not sure if she actually realizes what she's doing. "El, calm down. This—this isn't you. This isn't right. You're—something's the matter with you, we need to find out what—"

"You absolute  _bastard!_ " she screams, effectively shutting him up. Jack takes a step or two back, though they're already a few feet away. "What more do you want from her? Huh? I've got news for you, Comstock—she's. Not. Yours. She is  _nothing_ to you, so let her go, or you  _will_ regret it."

Wait, what the fuck?

Okay, first things first. Who the hell is Comstock, and why has El—no, not El, someone or something that has somehow taken over El's body—why has El mistaken Jack for him? She'd said to hand over the girl. Jack risks a cursory glance down at Sally, who seems to realize she's in deeper shit than anybody else right now. Give the girl over to the psycho lady he didn't trust in the first place, who's apparently gone even more mental? Not likely. He tries to reason with her again, even though he suspects it will get him nowhere.

"El, please, just calm down—we're your friends, remember?"

"My  _name_ is  _Elizabeth,_ and we are  _not_ friends. I don't care about whatever delusions you've convinced yourself of, whatever fantasy land you've conceived in your own inflated head that has you convinced that I would  _ever_ forgive you for  _everything_ you've done to me—to that poor girl, Sally—but if I don't have that girl in my arms in the next ten seconds, I won't hesitate to hurt you."

Oh, well. He had been planning to shoot her in the face anyways, hadn't he? He admits, he had been getting somewhat fond of her odd mannerisms, and used to her speech patterns and unusual ways of showing she cared. She had reminded him a lot of Sally, in some ways, actually. That same, preserved innocence, being another of Rapture's endless victims. But he will never hesitate to admit that his first priority is Sally, and he doesn't even entertain the shadow of concern that clouds his mind for a brief second, wondering when that happened. It doesn't matter, not right now. He's getting out of here with that girl. If he has to make a choice between El or Sally, he's choosing the latter, no hesitation. He squeezes Sally's hand behind his back, hoping to reassure her, but he's afraid it doesn't quite come off that way.

"Show me what you've got."

" _Wait, no, no!_ " Sally abruptly pushes past Jack's legs, coming to stand between them before either of them can move another inch. She stays closer to Jack, within grabbing distance, and she gives him a look as she puts her hands up, signaling for them to stop for just a second. "Jack, El—pretty lady—you gotta listen. We're all friends, right? We have to stay together so we can get the bathysphere and go to Lilly-Poppy, remember?"

"Sal, are you seeing what I'm seeing?" he steps closer to the girl, making sure he's in easier reaching distance if things get violent or messy. He realizes this is probably heartbreaking for her, having to watch her only two friends try to kill each other, but really, unless she snaps out of whatever trance has taken ahold of her, there's no other option. This woman is going to take Sally back by force, and if she can't have that, then Jack is certain she'll kill them both. "Kid,  _El_ 's gone off her fucking rocker. Whoever is inside that meatsuit right now doesn't know who we are, and will kill us if we don't kill her first."

"But she's our friend!"

" _I am not your friend!_ " The thing that used to indeed be their friend screeches, her face twisted in the ugliest form of pure hatred he's seen since Fontaine. Just thinking of  _that_ creepy bastard sends chills down his spine, but he digresses. "I am not his friend, Sally. I am his  _victim_. As are you." Her voice suddenly shifts, takes on a new and entirely different tone—softer, delicate, aimed only at the girl. "It's okay now, though. You can—you can come with me, and we'll get out of here together. We'll leave  _him_ behind and you'll never have to see him again." She outstretches a hand for the girl, but Sally rightfully recoils, though probably not on purpose.

"Sal,  _friends_  don't want to butcher each other, hate to break it to you. Whatever just happened to her is what we had the bad feeling about, remember? She's not El anymore, she's someone else. And that someone else wants us dead, and is not our friend."

"But—we can't just  _kill_ her," Sally protests, turning her back to the splicer to look at Jack. Clearly, the thought of murder is still wholly unappealing to her, and while he really can't blame her...

El— _Elizabeth,_ apparently—decides she's had enough, and steps closer to Sally, reaching out again. Sally squeaks in terror and rushes back to Jack, which, again, bad move. El-izabeth's gaze switches intensely to Jack now, eyeing him with the same cat-like gait that El was so fond of. She steps closer, and closer, and Jack backs up with Sally in tow. El-izabeth stops suddenly, and so Jack stops too, wondering what her aim is. After a brief moment of inspecting him, she draws herself up, pulling up her meathooks again. With each sentence of what she says next, she moves closer and closer, and they move farther and farther, until there's no farther to go, and then they're truly fucked.

"You took  _everything_ from me, do you know that? I felt  _everything_  that  _every_  version of me felt. I know what you did to Anna. You're going to do the same to Sally. You will never escape it, Comstock. Exploited. Exploiting. It's like a wheel of blood, spinning round and round. You are going to pay for what you did to us, starting  _now._ "

She thrusts out an arm, intending to eviscerate him right then and there, but something...something stops her. She stops just inches from his gut, turning the hook over in her hand and stopping when she sees her pinky. Her right pinky, to be exact, which is almost completely gone save for the nub of bone beneath the final knuckle. She retracts her hook quickly, bringing it up to her face to inspect it closer.

"What...huh? Wait, but my—my pinky…"

She drops the meathook, staring in horror at her missing finger, and bringing her other hand up to touch it. She rubs at the nub of bone, squeezing it tightly between her fingers before she gasps in horror. "What—what's going on, I don't—but the tears—"

Jack tries to back away further with Sally, but remembers that he's backed up all the way to the wall. Nevertheless, he nudges Sally out of her attack path before trying to move himself out of the way too. Surprisingly, it works, but Jack soon realizes that maybe that's not exactly a good thing. El—izabeth is still inspecting her pinky, hyperventilating in shock as she mumbles something about tears and...doors? What crack is she on? This whole situation is honestly bizzare—how had this even happened? Everything had been fine until they'd moved the rubble and El had seen her own dead body. Which begs yet another question: how the hell had El been able to see her own dead body? If  _that's_ El, but then this person here is also El...yeah, he doesn't get it. He promises to devote column pages in his brain to the paradox once they're far, far away from her.

"The tears...the doors, I—I can't see any of them. If my finger is gone again, then why can't I—what's happening to me? What's going on? Wait…" She stops, turning to Jack, and his heart freezes, but her eyes sail past him and take in her surroundings for what seems like the first time. She takes in the cracked window, the cold, damp floor, with puddles and rivers caused by the dripping ceiling, the disgusting smell of mildew and the by now nauseating scent of seawater. And she  _freaks the fuck out._

Jack immediately grabs Sally and pulls her close to him, hoisting the girl on his hip and stepping farther away from El—izabeth as the woman begins screaming, the sound painful and agonizing as she begins looking around frantically for something. "The tears—the tears, I can't see—what—where's the sky? Where's the air, the...clouds? Columbia? I don't—I don't understand, why am I...here? Where is  _here_? Where are the doors, I don't—my pinky…Booker!" She turns to Jack again, franictic, and Jack takes several steps back as she takes several steps forward. "Booker, what's happening? We were—we were on our way to Paris, weren't we? We were going...to  _Paris_ …"

"You are utterly out of your mind, sister. I don't know who the fuck Comstock is, or Booker, but  _my_ name is  _Jack._ Or Ace. Or whatever the fuck you like to call me. But  _I_ am getting the hell away from your insane ass. And the girl is coming with me." He hefts Sally higher on his hip, making sure she's secure as he pulls out his gun again, pointing it in El—izabeth's face. She stumbles back, the confused and terrified expression on her face increasing tenfold as she realizes there's a loaded pistol staring her in the face. "Get the  _hell_ away from  _us._ "

"But—Booker, wait, it's me, it's  _Elizabeth_ —I don't—wait…Comstock? No, you're Comstock—but you were Booker before," she babbles, barely coherent as her broken mind frantically tries to piece together her own story. "I don't understand...it wasn't supposed to happen like this...not like this...I don't understand…" she rambles, clenching and unclenching her hands as she stares at them. She then, unexpectedly, looks at Jack—finally. Her eyes are wide, with confusion and anger and—and something else, something Jack hasn't seen before—he can't place it. "My plan...what happened to my plan? I...it wasn't supposed to end like this…! It's all come undone! It's all come undone!"

"Plan? What plan—no. Forget it, you're clearly talking out of your ass. Listen here,  _Elizabeth,_ we are leaving, we are not taking you with us, and if you try to follow or attack me or my Little Sister I will  _kill_ you. Is that understood?"

"I— _no,_ it is  _not_! Who are you? Where is Booker? I don't recognize you...I—I don't recognize this place…Comstock. What have you done? What have you done to me?" Oh,  _fantastic._ She's pissed,  _again._ Her face adopts the expression it had worn when she'd first mistaken him for this...person, and her eyes are cold and unforgiving as she straightens her stance, looking him up and down cooly. She's about to say something, threaten him, probably, but he's had enough. He shoves the barrel of his pistol into her forehead, flicking the safety off and returning the gaze.

"You wouldn't," she spits, her voice dripping with poison.

Jack, for a brief moment, decides to play along, adopting the role he thinks this Comstock fellow would play. "Oh, no? Think of what I've done to you, Elizabeth—all the pain, all the suffering I've put you through—and look at me again, look me  _right in the eye,_ and tell me that I won't."

She falls silent, staring back at him, perhaps assessing the seriousness of his threat. Her mouth twitches, her eyes roam over him and then the girl, and something in her shifts when she gazes at Sally, but she doesn't move. After an eternity, she makes to speak again, but this time, it's Sally who doesn't let her.

"Leave us alone!" the girl cries, in her demonic voice, and the sound startles both of them. Though the double-edged tone of her voice always masks some part of any emotion she's feeling, but this time, the fear and terror present in her voice are clear as day. "Get out of here, we don't want you!"

"You heard the girl," Jack says after a moment, nudging the pistol into her skull again. "Get out of here." He kicks her discarded meathooks towards her, and after a moment's hesitation she bends down, picking them up. His gun is trained on her the whole time. She takes one final, sorrowful look at the both of them, and then, with something akin to tears in her eyes, she flees, backflipping away and disappearing into the rafters, screaming in agony.

As soon as she's certain the dangerous lunatic is gone, Sally bursts into tears, prompting Jack to forget everything else to try and calm her down. He lowers them both to the ground, moving her to sit on his lap instead as he tries his best to soothe her. She just collapses into his chest, mumbling and crying while Jack uses his best calming voice to try and talk her down. It's a bit difficult, seeing as this is a first for him—a crying child in his lap, with himself being her only source of comfort. A child that he's grown particularly fond of, despite his better judgment, who's just been attacked by the only other semi-sane person they've met down here and someone she considered a friend. He has no experience in comfort, and as he gingerly runs a hand down her back, he tries out his best comforting voice on the girl. He doubts she's ever really been comforted, so he supposes it's a first for both of them.

"Hey hey hey," he says, awkwardly, and Sally immediately stops. 'It's—it's going to be okay, it'll be alright. She's—she's not coming back, and if she does, I'll stop her from hurting you. Hey," he continues, getting a sudden idea. "Do you remember what I told you, when we first met?"

"I remember you said a lot of things, Jack," she mumbles eventually into his shirt. He pulls her closer to him, noting the suspicious lack of wetness on her face. He spares her face a quick glance and sees that while there are no tears, she looks absolutely heartbroken—perhaps the Little Sisters are incapable of producing actual tears? It doesn't matter right now. He pats her on the back again and explains.

"You asked me, when we were in that bathysphere, if I was going to leave you. You told me it'd be a lot easier on me if I did, and you wouldn't mind, but I promised you I wasn't going to. Remember?"

Sally nods after a minute, reciting what he'd said to her almost verbatim, which takes him by slight surprise. He hadn't thought she'd understood anything he'd said. Maybe she still doesn't, but she remembers the words, which is impressive enough. "I listen well, I'm small, and I can get into places you can't. I've been here before, so I know my way around and I can help us get to the bathyspheres. 'You and I are partners now, and you're fairly valuable to me, so I don't plan on getting rid of you anytime soon'."

"Wow. Verbatim. Nice. Uhm, yes. That's exactly what I said, and I meant it. You and I, we're gonna get out of here, and we're leaving this shithole behind. We'll never have to come back if we don't want to, nobody will be able to tell us what to do or who we are. We'll leave and we'll go to Lilly-Poppy—before today is over, you'll finally know what sunshine feels like. I  _promise_ , I am  _not_  leaving here without you." As he says the words, initially intended to cheer her up, he realizes that he truly means them. He already meant them, of course, before, but now he actually believes what he's saying. Sally must sense it, too, because she perks up a bit, looking up at her friend.

"Sunshine? What's that?"

"It's the sun. You know, that big, yellow ball in the sky? Oh, wait, you've...never seen the—you know what, nevermind. It's up there, on the surface, and it's in the sky and it's really warm. The point is, we're getting out of here, and nobody is going to stop us. Alright?"

"Can you show me the sun if we get out?"

" _When_ , Sal, when. And yes. I'll show you the sun. It'll be right up there, in the sky...first time for both of us, actually..." He's lost in his musings for a few moments, allowing Sally herself a few moments to contemplate what he's just said—or rather, promised. She sticks her hand in his face, sticking out her pinky finger and wiggling it in his face. He has to move her hand away for him to realize what she's doing, and even then he doesn't understand. "Er...what?"

"Pinky promise me, Mister Jack. Come on."

"I…" Hm. Sell out, or retain dignity? Choices, choices. "Alright, fine." He curls his own pinky around hers and squeezes hard. "I pinky promise, we're getting out of this, together or not at all."

"Yay!" Any semblance of sorrow or fear still present on her face is washed away by this new development. "We're going to Lilly-Poppy! Me and Mister Jack!"

"Jack," he corrects.

"Jack!" She jumps up, out of his embrace and begins jumping around. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

* * *

They finally pass through the rubble, Sally stopping for a second to look at the other El's dead body before sighing sadly and continuing on. Jack takes a few seconds more to inspect it himself, noting again the pinky finger. He does a double take when he sees that it's cut off, like El's—he wonders if it's a birth defect she was born with, and the ADAM Sally had given her had caused it to grow back. She'd probably thought that cutting it off again would help get her back to normal. He leaves the body when he sees Sally already in an elevator just a bit ahead, joining her and pulling the lever down.

Seeing as Sally is occupied with the ride itself, plopping down cross-legged and giggling as the damn thing shudders and starts, bucking several times on the way down, he takes the brief reprieve to take in and deal with all that had just happened.

They'd all been fine when they'd entered the toy department—El had been a bit loony, but altogether friendly and accommodating. She'd given Sally a ride on her shoulders, watched over them as they slept, and didn't attack them when Sally had accidentally startled her awake. All in all, a good relationship, but as it turns out, also an incredibly fragile one.

Jack and Sally had both had premonitions as soon as they'd neared the rubble. He can't explain it—he just  _knew_ something terrible was about to happen, and look at that, it did. Sally had also had a bad feeling about it, and had tried to stop it from happening. They'd both gotten the same feeling, but apparently El hadn't or she would have backed away from the rubble too. It was only when they cleared it out that things had not only taken a turn for the worse, but incredibly bizarre.

Somehow, there is a dead El, back there, impaled on a piece of rebar and dead for who knows how long. Her corpse isn't rotted, but maybe that's just the ADAM in her system. He recalled seeing more than a few corpses in his time here that were perfectly preserved if they had died somewhere without seawater or had been locked away. But that still doesn't answer the question of how there are two El's.

He does briefly entertain the possibility that the dead woman, who is undoubtedly the same woman from the Songbird poster, isn't really El. Perhaps the splicer, at the height of her insanity, had seen the poster, and adopted the identity herself, having none of her own and thinking the woman's pretty features appealed to her. But he discards this notion as soon as he remembers connecting the facial features of the woman and El herself. They were undoubtedly the same person, or identical twins. Twins doesn't seem likely, somehow. He doesn't have anything to disprove it other than a gut feeling, but he figures she wouldn't have reacted so violently if it wasn't herself. But it  _can't_ be herself, because  _she_ was standing there, alive but incredibly spliced, in front of them, looking at what could only be her own dead body in front of her.

There's another thing to consider here as well, slightly unrelated but still very important: El had changed completely once she saw herself. She'd called him 'Comstock', then 'Booker', then back to 'Comstock', and then she'd switched between the two identities. Not once did she recognize him as himself...but she had recognized Sally. She'd called Sally by name, and tried to coax her into coming to her side. El is the 'pretty lady' that had saved Sally from Atlas, and right then, she seemed to have remembered that, however fractured her version of reality was. But she hadn't called  _him_ Atlas, she'd called him Comstock. He wonders if maybe, Comstock is an alias that Fontaine had used once, when she'd known him.

He starts, his heart skipping a few beats as he abruptly realizes that seeing her own body might have shaken her so much that her damaged psyche was effectively pulled back to reality—or at least, a past version of it. A past version of her  _own_  reality, maybe the last thing she fully remembered before she became too far gone. Saving Sally from Atlas, or this Comstock, if he is or was another person entirely. In some sort of city, in the sky, if her ramblings are to be believed, which he doubts. El had been insane, no doubt about it, but because she's a splicer—even at that, she still had had basic mind functioning. She might not have been able to entirely tell reality from fiction, but she had had enough sense, barely, to know what was what in reality.  _This_ person, on the other hand—this  _Elizabeth_ —is somehow even more delirious than El—maybe suddenly having her right mind returned to her, in a completely new body and environment than when she had left, had had a negative effect on her.  _Clearly._

Whoever this Comstock is, or was, it's painfully obvious that however she knew him in her past life (which she's now convinced she's living), she did not like him one bit. She'd accused Jack of exploiting Sally, promising that he would hurt her just like he'd hurt Elizabeth herself. Once she'd seen her finger, though, she'd gone even deeper down the rabbit hole, forgetting about them and rambling on about doors and tears and fingers. Someone named Booker, who is apparently far different from Comstock—she trusts this Booker, she likes him. Booker is her friend, Comstock is not. Good to know. After she'd noticed Jack again, she'd addressed him as Booker, and when he'd retaliated not very nicely, she'd reacted the same, her version of reality apparently shifting to accommodate the events taking place. Somehow, though, she'd noticed it happening, and confused by her own psychology, blamed it on him, he and Sally stood up for themselves, and she disappeared. He wonders if she'll catch up to them again, or if she's this way for good now. Perhaps she'll revert back to her splicer mindset again, maybe even soon. If she does, and she remembers them, he wonders what she'll think—that they just left her, or maybe an altered retelling of the events that took place. Either way, she probably won't be happy.

If she doesn't remember them, then that's that, he supposes—he's not going to go looking for her again, and she'll live out the rest of her days unhappily and wishing for freedom before being killed by something bigger and stronger than her.

But if she does…

He finds himself surprised to find that he actually hopes she finds them again, if she does. She did it once before, she'll be able to do it again, he's certain of it. If she finds them again with a motive of revenge for seemingly abandoning her, he'll have to devote precious minutes to explaining to her that  _she_ left  _them._ Hopefully she buys it, but if she doesn't, then she's getting the bullet. Sorry, Sally, hate to do it, but it's either her or you. If she listens, though, then they're all a happy family again, at least until the next time she freaks out on them again.

"Jack," Sally says suddenly, and Jack himself is brought abruptly back to reality. He worries for a second that he's been talking out loud again, and he gets ready to apologize, but he realizes that the darkness has been replaced by a soft, gentle light. "We're here. We have to go through that air vent, down there, see? I think you can fit through."

"There's no other way?" He steps off the lift, making sure Sally comes with him, and inspects the small area they'd come to for another way out. Unfortunately, she turns out to be right, and the only way to move any kind of forward is the air vent. He crouches down next to it, feeling inside and measuring how big it is by sight alone. "Hm. I think I can fit. Well, I have to, actually, because it doesn't look like there's another way." He takes a deep breath. "Okay. Sally, you go in first, and I'll follow you in a second."

Sally nods, getting on her hands and knees and proceeds to crawl into the vent. Jack watches her, noting that there seems to be a large pile of broken glass directly in front of her—he calls out to Sally, warning her of it, and she manages to avoid it altogether. After she disappears behind the first corner, Jack goes in after her. The air vent is chilly, blasting cold air at them from all sides, and the floor is damp—but they manage to make it all the way through.  _At least,_  he thinks,  _there's more than enough room to move around in here. I hate small spaces._ At one point, after going up a ramp of some kind, Sally stops, edging to one side and looking back at Jack.

"There's a lot of water up here," she tells him, pointing. "Big puddles. Not good."

"Not good," he repeats, and Sally gives him a thumbs up. "Okay. Try to avoid them the best you can. It can't be that long until we're through."

She nods, and she continues forward, leading the way and warning him of any upcoming obstacles. Finally, she stops, turning towards Jack and sitting up, pointing out some kind of window. No, not a window, he realizes as he catches up with her and sees where she's pointing. The exit of the air vent. It's a bit of a drop downwards, but they should be fine.

"Alright, Sally, I'm going to go down first, and then I'll catch you when you jump down. Okay?"

"Okay," she says, moving more to the side to allow him to pass her. He very carefully shimmies himself out of the air vent, feet first, and he lands on both of them, thank God. He casts a cursory glance around, noting that he's in some sort of...hallway? He's honestly not quite sure, but plenty of time to explore when Sally's with him. He takes a quick look around for enemies, but seeing none, he reaches his hands up for the Sister. "Sal. Come on out."

A few sounds of tiny hands scraping around on metal later, Sally's feet poke out of the vent, dangling in the air. Jack steps up to the vent again and helps her out, setting her down gently on the soft, carpeted floor.

"Oohh, what's this?" she asks, immediately dropping down on all fours and rubbing the probably very unsanitary carpet. "It feels nice and soft. I like it."

"It's called carpet," he explains, feeling the sudden urge to laugh. Most of the floors they've been walking on have been cold, hard, and damp. He can't feel the carpet himself, unless he touches it with his hands— _he's_ wearing shoes, and it suddenly occurs to him that maybe they should find some shoes for her, too. He hadn't thought to get her any when they'd both gotten new outfits, but if he finds a pair he thinks will fit, he'll snatch them for her. "Don't you think we should get going?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah." She jumps up, grabbing Jack's hand and swinging it back and forth between them. "Let's go. I'm ready."

'That's what I like to hear, Sally. That's what I like to hear."

"Why did you say that twice?"

"No, it's—it's a thing, you—oh, nevermind. Come on, those bathyspheres won't wait forever."


	12. Chapter 12

" _Ryan the Lion's Preparatory Academy,_ " reads Jack from the large, looming sign ahead. The selected text is in small print at the bottom of the large poster, with a lion wearing a tie pushing away a Bible-holding, flag-welding rat. Much larger text above reads,  _Ryan the Lion reminds you, Parasites are NEVER welcome!_  "What kind of bullshit propaganda is this?"

"What's propaganda?" Sally asks from beside him, walking up to the poster and poking the rat.

"Advertising biased information and claiming it as fact. Not that...you understand what that means. It doesn't matter, it's just...stupid. Come on, let's get out of here." He drags her away from the poster and moves forward, toward the double doors ahead of them. Sally resists, wanting to stay a little longer and look around, but Jack isn't having it. "Sal…" he warns, and she finally relents, but not without one last, longing look at the soft carpet. He's  _got_ to get her some shoes.

The double doors lead to another part of the "academy", and the soft carpeted floor is gone, replaced briefly by solid, hardwood floor. The surface is smooth and easy to walk on, so Jack doesn't bother pitying Sally anymore, and the two continue on, moving around the area looking for a way out, during which they find several disturbing images, mostly for the purposes of child indoctrination. There's even a projector, showcasing a small film dedicated, no doubt, to Andrew Ryan's unrealistic ideals. He'd never been one of governments, and he doesn't really understand the type of ideology that Rapture was founded on, but he knows enough to see that it was doomed from the start. The film has no sound—either that, or the sound box had been destroyed long ago, but he doesn't care to find out. At long last, they come across another set of double doors, leading them out of this area and into  _yet another_ part of the academy. Jesus, how big  _is_ this place? He's about to move on when he notices something sitting on the desk beside the doors—a miniature weapon holder, boasting three crossbows very unlike his own that he used to have. These are smaller, more delicate, and seem to not actually boast of any damaging ammo, but instead some kind of tranquilizer dart. After a moment's contemplation, he decides to pick one up, grabbing a box of ammo lying next to it. Just in case. He'd much rather use his pistol or his Plasmids, but it's always a good idea to have a backup plan. He and Sally move on into the next room.

This section has a large, silver statue or Andrew Ryan himself holding the hand of a small child, pointing at something ahead. The large text underneath reads,  _THERE'S NO FREE LUNCH!_  Jack shakes his head and continues onward, not bothering to stop and look around. Sally doesn't seem too eager to stick around either, shifting uncomfortably beside Jack. They wander around some more, trying to find a definitive exit, and they finally come across a door that leads into a hallway of some sort, definitely still part of the academy but no longer in the main area. A good sign, or so he hopes. They follow the hallway to another set of doors, and when they open these, Jack, at least, is relieved that it seems to signal the end of the academy. They open up to a smaller, damper, and much colder area, facing an advertisement for some Silver Fin Restaurant, closed by the order of Dr. Suchong. To their left is a store called Cupid's Arrow, but Jack has a feeling they probably shouldn't venture in there. Even from out here, it doesn't look appropriate for...younger audiences. Thankfully, they have another option—just ahead is a SECURIS door that apparently leads to an elevator, if the sign above it is any indication. He lifts Sally on his hip again, dutifully ignoring her glee, and heads towards it, but frowns when he realizes that the casing from the button is torn off. He'll have to do it manually then, somehow.

"Do we still have that Air Grabber, Sally? Or did we leave it behind when we ran away from El that first time?"

Sally gives him an incredulous look, raising a tiny eyebrow. When he doesn't respond to the silent accusation, she sighs and nudges something on his hip. He looks down, and sees the Grabber attached to his hip, where it has apparently been this entire time. "Oh."

Sally mumbles something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like 'idiot', but he ignores her in favor of fishing out the Grabber, sliding his arm into it, and jabbing the thing in the mechanism, using it to turn the gears manually. The SECURIS door rises, very slowly, so Jack raises it just enough to be able to slip underneath it on his hands and knees. Sally follows him, looking none too happy about it.

On the other side of the door is a short hallway and another set of double doors. The doors open up to a larger area, three side-by-side floor to ceiling length windows barely illuminating the large circular alcove of the right side of the room, while most of the left side is granted light by still-working lights that probably need to be changed soon. A scale model of the department store itself sits in the middle of the room, but that doesn't interest either of them. What interests  _them_ is the elevator on the other side of the small area, surrounded by splicers. If Jack had had most of his weapons from his previous trek around Rapture, this would be a piece of cake. But most of them had either been trashed in the fight with Fontaine, or completely out of ammo at that point, so when he had woken up alone he had decided to ditch the extra weight and leave only his pistol and his wrench. Now he wishes he'd at least kept his crossbow. He then, of course, remembers that he  _does_ have a crossbow, just...not the kind he'd prefer. You know,  _lethal._ He'll have to try that one out at some point, just not right now. Incinerate! would probably work best here, seeing as there's only three of them and fire spreads quickly and does the most damage.

He equips it, snaps his fingers at the trio, and they all go up in flames, as Jack and Sally make their way past. He's not overly worried about waiting for them to die, seeing as his Incinerate! was always his most powerful Plasmid and could kill a splicer in seconds. Indeed, before they're even halfway to the elevator two out of three of them are already dead, and the third one is on their final screams. They step into the elevator, Jack pressing the button while Sally looks worried.

"Marshmallow?" she asks Jack, pointing to the closing doors that are shielding the splicers from view.

"Hm? What about it?" She's never had a problem with him killing people before—but then again, they haven't really come across any splicers during their time together. The first time they really did was when they first met El, but she had turned out to be friendly, so they hadn't needed to kill her. Then there were the group of splicers that had tried to get the jump on them, back in the tram area, but El had saved them from those, and then the same when they had stumbled upon that group of splicers and El had viciously attacked them. So, he supposes, they  _have_ actually come across splicers, but El had always dealt with them. But even so, Sally had never had a problem with what  _El_ was doing. He wonders where she's going with this.

Sally places her hands on her stomach, frowning. "I'm hungry. Can we get something to eat?"

Oh. Well, he put a lot more thought into that than was strictly necessary. He sighs. "Yeah, sure thing, kiddo. I'll get you a pep bar or something, first Circus of Values we find."

She nods, satisfied with this answer. "Creepy clowns?" she asks.

"Creepy clowns," he confirms, and she nods again.

That would have been it for the conversation, the rest of the elevator ride to wherever the hell this took them passing in uncomfortable silence, had Jack's radio not crackled to life, the sound amplified ten times in both the silence and the confined space. Jack startles, looking around for the source of the noise, but then realizes it's coming from  _him_ —more accurately, the radio he had never managed to ditch, and the last use of which was in a completely different elevator ride, and a far more unpleasant one at that. There's only static at first, but then a familiar voice begins to speak.

" _Ace?_ "

Sally looks up at once, the surprise on her face mirroring Jack's own as he picks up the radio, pressing the TALK button and hesitating before saying, "...Elizabeth?"

" _Elizabeth? No. El is El. Ace and Little Bird are gone, they left El all alone. Where did they go?_ "

Jack takes a moment to respond, still trying to wrap his head around this bizarre situation. El is back, somehow—it would seem that  _Elizabeth_ had fucked off to the abyss of the splicer's subconsciousness, and her splicer persona is front and center again. It would seem that particular theory is the correct one, then—but whether she remembers her little psychotic episode still remains to be seen. At least she still remembers them, but she also seems to remember them ditching her. Not a good sign, but if she's contacting them by radio, somehow, then she's not anywhere close. "El. It's nice to hear from you again. Sally—Little Bird says hi. El, do you remember  _why_ we left you?"

" _No. All El remembers is on our way to bathysphere. Then, darkness, and El is alone. Ace and Little Bird left. Where did they go?_ "

She's using pronouns now. Not consistently, but it's a start, at least. He wonders if maybe a tiny bit of her Elizabeth mental state stayed behind to correct her grammar. Still can't remember names, though. And apparently, she also doesn't remember that she went berserk on them and tried to hurt him. "El, you went insane. You started yelling at us and threatening us, you thought I was—someone from your past, I guess, I'm not sure. You remembered everything for who you were before, but I think it was too much to handle at once, so you went crazy—well, even crazier than you are now. We had to leave you for your own safety, and for ours."

" _Insane? El?_ " The notion seems to be insane itself to her, but she seems to believe it. " _El does not remember...El is already insane. El went_ _ **more**_ _insane?_ " The splicer pauses, and seems to contemplate this as best she can, maybe even trying to remember. " _No...El does not remember, but she is sorry. Can Ace and Little Bird come back now? El is lonely, and...scared._ "

Sally looks at Jack, pleading with her amber eyes and shifting nervously. "Is she gonna hurt us again? You said we can't trust her."

Jack looks at the radio again. He hadn't initially trusted her, and then finally, he'd given her a tiny bit of trust, and then she'd turned around not ten minutes later and tried to kill him. That's happened before,  _twice_ if his memory isn't failing him. But he forces himself to remember that those people were a delusional egomaniac, who ordered his creation in order to save his own hide, so he was never truly helping him; and the other is a German scientist who is partially responsible for the fall of this entire shithole of a city, who did initially trust  _him_ but after seeing him mercilessly slaughter a bunch of innocent girls, turned her back on him and left him to die, which he admits is fair. El is just...El. True, apparently she used to be a lot more than just your average Jane of Rapture—judging by the entire confrontation back at the site of her own dead body, which he still doesn't know what to make of, she had been involved in some serious bad juju. But that's in the past, and though  _Elizabeth_ runs a considerable chance of returning if El's memory is jogged enough, he'll take his chances with it. She just wants to go home, see the sun again and know what it feels like to  _live._ The same as Sally and himself. She just wants her old life back, her old self, and the only thing she's getting out of partnering with him is the same thing he's already after, so it's not like he's going out of his way or anything.

He looks to Sally again, at long last, and nods, though he hesitates. "I know what I said before, and I do mean it, but for now I think she's alright. I doubt anything like what we saw back there is going to happen again, and if it does—well, hopefully it won't be quite as violent. We escaped once before, we can do it again. Just hang tight to me and don't wander out of my sights, you hear?"

"I...hear?"

"Fantastic. Alright, El," he presses the TALK button again, shifting his attention to the splicer. "You can come back, but we can't backtrack towards you. I don't know where you are, and we've already come a considerable way since we parted, so you'll just have to catch up with us."

" _Meet up?_ " is the response, and actually, that's probably a better idea. He nods, before realizing that she can't see him.

"Yeah, let's meet up. We can meet you at the Bathyspheres DeLuxe, if you have a means of reaching it. I'd wager we'll be there soon enough, if the path you've set us on is correct."

"It is," Sally says, pointing ahead, and Jack looks to see that to his immense surprise and endless delight, the very object of their long journey is right ahead of them, boasting in large, looming, neon red lights,  _BATHYSPHERES DeLUXE,_ and underneath that, in smaller, silver print,  _By Fontaine Futuristics._ Jack actually lets out a laugh at their good fortune, though it's born more of disbelief of their luck than anything else. Sally begins to laugh too, mimicking him, even though she probably doesn't understand why he's laughing. The two share a brief moment of excitement and basking in their luck before Jack remembers that El has probably responded by then, and he presses the TALK button again to receive a repeat of whatever it was.

"Could you repeat whatever it was you just said, El?"

" _Path is correct. El will meet you at Bathysphere DeLuxe soon. Will take a bit longer, El needs something first, but then we will all go up together. Happy surface, happy sun and sky._ "

"Right," he says, not bothered for once by her strange speech patterns. Fuck it, he's too estatic right now. Of course, this is only half the battle—they still need to find a bathysphere, rig it to somebody's apartment,  _backtrack_ to the bathysphere that had brought them here and head over to said apartment, or find one in the store that would take them there. But all in due time, all in due time. Right now he's just happy to be here. "Okay, El, we'll see you then."

She doesn't respond, but Jack didn't really except her to. After a few moments of radio silence, ensuring that she's done talking, he grabs Sally and hoists her on his hip, noting the large, unavoidable puddle of water that separates them from the entrance. They make their way to the double-glass doors and finally,  _finally_ enter the Bathyspheres DeLuxe.

* * *

The DeLuxe, as it turns out, isn't just one big bathysphere store—rather, it's a cluster of smaller stores dotted throughout the area, along with a couple of straggling splicers every now and then. Jack readies his pistol and makes sure Sally is safe on his hip before he prepares to descend one of the side staircases connected to the entrance platform. Once he's on the actual showfloor himself—at least, he thinks it's a showfloor, since it's showcasing various bathysphere models and advertisements—does it really matter what it's called?—once he's on the showfloor, he shoots a nearby splicer in the back of the head and moves over to where he'd been standing.  _TEST DRIVE_ illuminates the surrounding area with its bright neon glow, but Jack's not too sure that that's where they're meant to go. He doesn't intend to explore the area any more than he absolutely has to—the sooner they're all shut of this place, the better.

He moves on, taking notice of a grand staircase curling upwards against the side of a large, circular display case of a revolving model of a bathysphere. A scale model of Rapture sits at the base, on the other side, but Jack isn't interested in either of them. He moves up the staircase, pausing to pick up what seems to be more crossbow ammo, but he realizes is a different kind. This type seems to have a little blue bell on the tip, triggered when the dart is fired from the bow. He adds it to Sally's satchel, which he figures is probably getting pretty heavy by now, but she doesn't seem to mind. All the ADAM in her system, probably.

They emerge at the top, which is mostly coated in darkness, but Jack's Incinerate! helps to light the way. They continue on, weaving through display cases and passing by what appears to be a restaurant of some sort—the Silver Fin. Jack does a double take when he sees the name displayed by the door—Dr. Yi Suchong. He decides it's not worth a look and passes by it—the door is locked, with a turn-dial no less, and he's out of automatic hacking tools and the will to care. They lounge around for a bit up here, but after finding more splicers than he cares to deal with at the moment, and several other establishments but no place where he can actually find bathyspheres—the Service Bay, as he later finds out it's called—they head back downstairs, searching for the bathyspheres down there instead.

It takes them several minutes, but they finally find what they're looking for, on the other side of the revolving bathysphere display case and beside the stairwell on that side.  _SERVICE BAY_ is constructed in bright neon red lights, bathing the surrounding area in a haunting glow. He quickly climbs the couple of steps, lifting Sally off his hip at long last, taking a moment to reveal in the lost weight before opening the doors.

There are yet more steps to be climbed, but Jack hardly notices, glad that they're finally almost done with this whole thing. Sally seems to sense his impatience, nearly running to catch up with his long strides as they move through the Bay, moving past the lobby and entering the door with  _SERVICE BAY_ above in white letters, and then an elevator a few feet inside.

They ride the elevator upwards in silence, Sally plopping down on the floor as soon as the door closes and Jack fiddling with his radio, wondering if he should contact El again. They're here now, so they should probably contact her and let her know, right? He presses the TALK button.

"Hey El, we're at the Bathysphere's DeLuxe now, in the Service Bay. Either meet us here or we'll wait for you, but if you're not here within the hour we're leaving without you."

No response, but he has to assume she's gotten the message. He doesn't have time to ponder further, as the elevator  _dings,_ signaling their arrival. The first thing they see is a bathysphere, not more than five feet away. Jack gives it a good once over, but after realizing that there's no way to send it anywhere, or indeed any of the others that make up what he assumes to be the showcase line up, he ignores them after a cursory glance, and moves on, winding his way around the sharp corners that make up the maze.

It suddenly occurs to him that there's more than one type of bathysphere, and he doesn't know yin from yang about it. Actually  _getting_ a bathysphere and riding it to the surface is only half the battle. Whichever craft they choose, they need to make sure that it'll last them long enough to get to the surface or, if worst comes to worst, to the nearest shore itself. These things are self-driving, right? No track to go on or to do the work for you. They should be able to make it work, but only if it's necessary. It just might be...fuck, he hadn't thought of that.

They emerge after a few minutes in an actual bay area, one bathysphere in particular catching his eye above the rest, its red color seeming to shine as if calling out to him. As he looks down at the various bathyspheres held high by cranes, or low to the ground, within reach of a tall child, he realizes that maybe he was mislead this entire time. It's not a bathysphere  _store_ —rather, it's, well, exactly what it's called: a  _service bay,_ for damaged ships in need or repairs. They would have been sent here whenever they were broken or something, probably directly from the citizen's homes. He mentally curses himself for not thinking of that sooner, but then realizes that it hardly makes a difference—they can still just select one from the various array here, one that is in good enough shape to get them to the surface, provided it's also the right model, send it to a citizen's apartment, and boom, surface time. He's about to enter the actual area himself, Sally in tow, when he hears a sharp whistle, coming from the red bathysphere.

A figure, barely visible from where they're standing, waves to them, beckoning them closer and calling out to them. It takes them both a second, and moving closer, to realize that it's someone they actually know, albeit maybe not one they were expecting so soon.. "El?" he calls out, and the figure gives them a thumbs up, confirming her identity. "El, what the hell? How'd you get here so fast?"

"Secret," she calls out, and as they move closer to the edge of the ledge they're standing on they can see her making a zipping motion over her lips. "Look, El found a bathysphere!" she gestures somewhat pointlessly around her.

"El found a bathysphere? We can go to Lilly-Poppy now?" Sally asks, looking back and forth between the splicer and Jack, who nods, still in a state of disbelief. "Yay! We're leaving! We're leaving!"

"Alright, quiet your pipes," he scolds, flicking her on the head with his middle finger and thumb. "You want the splicers to hear us and come running? Let's just catch up with El first. Look, there are more of those lighting sconces. We can use the Air Grabber to jump on them, and then from there hop on the bathysphere."

Sally nods like she's understood any of that, and who knows, maybe she has—she's a lot smarter than he bothers giving her credit for. He should probably remedy that. Anyways. He lifts her up, lifting her on his poor hip once again, and slides his arm into the Grabber, already planning his strategy. He gives Sally a few moments to adjust, making sure she's ready before jumping on the railing and onto the lighting sconces. From there, it's just a matter of swinging from there and landing on the platform surrounding the red bathysphere.

He doesn't bother setting Sally down until they're inside the actual ship, moving her gently onto the plush cushions of the booth chairs winding around the interior of the bathysphere. He looks around for a moment, ignoring El and Sally as he takes in his surroundings—plush, comfortable chairs that don't feel hard or uncomfortable to sit on, solid, relatively clean red floor, with a hidden compartment near the left side of the craft, no doubt for storage of less than legal items. A booty box, if he recalls the term correctly. There are more, more visible compartments underneath the benches on the right side. El is sitting over there, holding something in her hands. When she sees she's gotten Jack's attention, she smiles.

"El has something to help," she says, holding out the item for him to take. He does, and looking at it closer, he realizes he still doesn't have any clue what he's looking at.

"Thank...you...what is this?"

"CO2 scrubber," she explains, pointing to a previously unnoticed open space in the floor. Jack ignores the question of how she knows that they need it or even remember what it's called and inspects the space, realizing that it's an engine of some sort. He still doesn't quite understand what he's looking at, and El, seeming to sense that, hops off her chair and looks at it too.

"Look, Ace. Missing piece. CO2 scrubber goes  _here,_ " she explains, pointing at a vacant space in the works. She takes the scrubber from him, angling it so that it easily slides into the catch, and positions it until it clicks, glowing yellow as soon as it does. "There. All better. Now we leave."

"How did you know that piece was missing? And are you sure  _this_ is the best bathysphere to go in? We might need to ride this thing not just to the surface, but the shore as well. And mind you, we'd need a long-haul bathysphere—something where the CO2 build-up would limit the submersible period. If you don't remove the carbon dioxide from the air supply in a submersible, you'll suffocate. I may not know much about these damn things, but I think that's fairly obvious."

"It looks okay," Sally pipes up, sitting upright on her chair and inspecting the interior. "I think El knows what she's doing."

"Does she? Do you?" he asks her, and she nods hesitantly, tilting her head as she struggles to remember.

"El was here before. Took the scrubber, took it for...something else. El is not sure what. But El found it again, and El has returned it. The bathysphere is fixed." She pats the floor next to the open engine, smiling fondly. "El is sure this is the right one. Submersible time of ninety minutes. Long enough to get to the surface. Enough fuel to get us home."

"We don't have a home," Sally reminds her, looking confused.

"Figure of speech, Little Bird," El shrugs, returning her attention to Jack. "We should go?"

"Yeah, let's do this. You've been here before? Do you know how to get them into the water?"

El nods, standing up and walking out of the bathysphere. She beckons them to follow, and when they do, she points to a control booth on the other side of the room, accessible by the platform they'd come in on. Jack grabs Sally again, lifting her up and positioning her so that he'll be able to carry them both, and El climbs onto the top of the bathysphere itself. He doesn't bother to ask what she's doing—he just focuses on getting himself over there in one piece. They make it over there by way of the lighting sconces, and happen to land fairly close to the entrance of the booth itself. Jack puts Sally down as soon as they land, something she isn't too happy about, but he's not going to carry her around forever. Best she gets used to it.

They wait for El to catch up before moving forward, winding their way around an open space with several stacked crates dotting the landscape. They turn a few corners and almost knock over a few crates, and Jack is about to ask if she really knows where she's going when they come to a set of double-doors with one of those four-digit dials. He begins to root around in Sally's satchel for an automatic hack tool (he doesn't actually know if he has one, but it can't hurt to look), but El simply pushes open the door, inviting them all inside. The first thing they see upon entering is a Circus of Values, which Jack takes the time to stop at and get Sally a little something to eat. She munches on the cream-filled cake as they enter the lift control booth, directly past the vending machine.

"Is that it?" Jack asks, approaching the controls themselves and nodding to the lever in the middle. "Do you know how to work this thing, El? Because I don't." When El doesn't respond, not even with a shrug, Jack sighs. "Okay...okay then. I'll just...figure out this highly complex piece of machinery myself. Go Jack."

"It can't be  _that_ hard," Sally says, coming up to stand beside him. Her head barely rises above the control panel itself, so she can't really see anything that he's doing. "You just need to lower the bathysphere into the water, right? Then...I forgot the next part of the plan," she admits, looking up at him again.

"It's okay. The point is, we're almost out of here, we just need to figure out how this works. And then...some...other stuff, but that doesn't matter. It shouldn't be a problem." He turns his attention to the controls at last, surveying the impressive but confusing array of buttons, switches, and levers. He tries to look for some kind of label on them, marking which ones are useful and which ones are not, but either they're buttons he doesn't want to press or the labels are too faded to read. He figures just randomly pressing buttons here and there isn't going to cut it—he silently curses himself as he realizes he can easily hack almost any mahine down here, no problem and within seconds, but can't find a simple button that will do what he wants. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

"Try the lever," Sally suggests, trying to pull it down herself but lacking the height needed to even reach it. Instead, her arm is flailing about just underneath it, occasionally touching the tip of the handle, until Jack pulls it down himself. He doesn't expect much—he had expected he would need to press a few buttons or something like that beforehand to make it work—but no. A new selection lights up, a row of buttons previously unseen now illuminated by a yellow glow from within. Their light is just bright enough to read the labels scribbled above these buttons, which if he has to take a guess, he's going to say are probably the different bathysphere models. Okay, cool. He can just press one of these buttons and hopefully... _something_ will happen. Hopefully something good.

But, of course, things are not that easy. He looks up at the red bathysphere again, realizing that he actually doesn't know the name of that particular model. El might have mentioned it earlier, but if she had, he hadn't been paying attention at that particular moment. Just great. Maybe she wouldn't mind repeating herself, though?

"El," he calls to her, and she immediately turns what whatever she's doing to give him all of her attention. She'd hung back while he and Sally had been messing with the lift controls, but now she comes over and inspects them herself, easily coming to the conclusion they just had and nodding thoughtfully. She, without another word, presses the button labeled  _STINGRAY,_ and the button light shifts from its neutral, calming yellow to an alarming red. Jack jumps back, surprised, and Sally follows his lead, but El acts as if she had expected that to happen—which, he realizes a little too late, she probably did. They all watch from the control room window as the bathysphere is lowered by a somehow still working crane into the service port below, landing in the water with the barest splash and a quiet displacement of water as smalls waves wash over the metal surrounding the entrance/exit port.

Another display lights up a few seconds after the bathysphere settles, a soft, yellow glow like the one before illuminating the side of Sally's face as she makes to press one of them. El stops her just in time, grabbing her wrist almost violently but then patting her hair comfortingly and murmuring nonsense about red balloons. Jack takes the five seconds to look at the display itself and realizes that it's a selection of the different residential areas or Rapture, and each one of them is lit in the strangely comforting yellow tones of the completely available. Jack sees two new options as to where to send this bathysphere, amongst the already established Olympus Heights, Mercury and Artemis Suites, and Apollo Square—Athena's Glory, which he already knows is inaccessible, is one. He supposes they could check that out, but then he wonders if they wouldn't just be wasting more time by heading there if the entire place is in ruin as he suspects. As such, and unwilling to take such leaps of faith, he skips that one and focuses on the other one, which seems to be their only chance of getting out of here. Market Street? Is that the Farmer's Market in Arcadia? Maybe. Probably. He supposes it doesn't really matter, so long as they all get out of  _here._ It's somehow far more eerie than the rest of Rapture, full of more misery and death not in spite of its suspicious lack of population but because of—and at this ominous thought, he glances El's way.

He had thought, as they were coming here, that they'd simply be able to grab a bathysphere and pilot it out of the water and to the surface. Now he sees the folly in that—though theoretically that should work, all bathyspheres that came here must have done so on some sort of track to bring them here. They all came in on tracks, so they have to leave on tracks. He wonders what kind of flimsy ass mechanic that is—if this were a story somewhere, he'd tell the writer to fuck off. Clearly, they're just trying to pan the word length.

But no matter. This simple obstruction can easily be fixed, because they'd already come to a solution earlier. They just have to select some poor asshole's apartment, backtrack all the way back from whence they'd came and then backtrack some more to where they needed to go, which is apparently Arcadia. Then, they simply locate the bathysphere, and everything is right as rain. He neglects to include in his little made up scenario the part where he deals with El and Sally, as even though their adventure is drawing to a near close, he still has no idea what he's going to do about either of them. Sally, an orphanage, for sure—but the more time he spends with the little brat, the clearer it becomes to him that he can't just drop her off at the first orphanage he sees—he has to make sure she'll be provided for. He has no idea how he's going ot do that, but she provided him with a ticket out of here—without her, none of them would be here right now. It's the least he can do for her. One good turn deserves another, and all that jazz.

With that, he selects  _MARKET STREET,_ and then, once the next selection—smaller, in finer print, and directly beside the first—lights up, he picks the first name he recognizes. Not because he thinks it's a good idea, or their best chance, or anything sensible like that, but because he's so shocked to see the name that his mind automatically went to verify it was real—which, of course, had included touching the button. The name in question is  _Cohen,_ as in Sander Cohen, as in that Section 8 prick who'd detained him and made him snap photographs of his dead employees, and then had tried to kill him when Jack had broken into his apartment. As he recalls this very unpleasant chapter in his even more unpleasant life, he suddenly is very glad that El was not one of the people he'd had to kill, because he doesn't think he'd ever have accomplished it.

His unfortunate musings are brought to an abrupt halt as El suddenly screeches in his ear, high-pitched and frantic, making him lose about two years off his life span from the shock alone and sending Sally into a startled frenzy of tears. As Jack moves to comfort her, El bangs her meathooks on the console and mutters something about constants and variables, and scrapes metal against metal as she talks to herself.

"El, what the  _hell_? You scared the shit out of us. Don't be a bitch."

El whirls around to face him, meathook coming dangerously close to his face, but she relaxes almost immediately when she sees his face. That is, the murderous rage hidden in her eyes dissipates, and leaves behind the murderous rage written all over her face. Thankfully, however, when she speaks, although she sounds angry, she does not sound like she wants to kill them. Well, not right now, anyways. "Idiot. Ace is  _stupid_. Cannot go to Cohen's! We don't have key. Now we are stuck. Ace's fault."

"What are you—" He sighs, taking a deep breath before responding to any of what she'd just said. "El. You fucking scared me half to death, and you made Sally cry. Give me a few seconds to process what the hell just happened so I can—"

"No!" El screeches again, causing a new wave of Sally tears to flow. Of course, again, she's not actually crying, as apparently Little Sisters can't produce tears, which makes it seem like she's faking. But the terror on her face is all too real, and Jack feels hurt by it for some reason. "Too late now. Bathysphere gone. Gone to Cohen's. We can't ride—no key. We will die here."

"We're gonna  _die_?" Sally gasps, horrified, and clings to Jack, not so subtly trying to climb on him so that she'll have a ride when she gets up. Even in the midst of...whatever this is, it's clear she's not losing sight of her priorities. Jack can respect that. "I don't want to die!"

"Sal, be quiet. We're not going to die, El's just being a bitch. El," he says, now addressing the woman in question as she glares at him—probably not for the insult, he reasons, though of course that probably didn't help his case. "What are you talking about? What key? Sure, I made a mistake when I pressed Cohen's name—I didn't mean to press it, but it happened, and now the bathysphere's on its way to Arcadia. It should be there soon, and if we hurry, we can meet it there. I don't see what the problem is."

"No, no, no!" El honest-to-God stamps her foot to punctuate each 'no', the scowl on her half-face deepening with each utterance of the word. "Ace does not understand. Cohen…" here she stops, her face losing its aggressive features and softening to mild annoyance and confusion. Jack wonders why she's trailed off when he realizes she probably doesn't know how to tell them whatever it is that needs said. "Cohen is not in Arcadia. He is in...ah…"

"Market Street," Jack fills in for her, and she nods. "But I thought Market Street was in Arcadia? The Farmer's Market."

El does not respond for a long moment, her face abandoning any traces of anger or dispassion she might feel towards her companion. She is, apparently, now as confused as he is, and she turns away from him a bit to have a moment to herself. Jack is about to do the same when her head snaps up, and she looks at him in that incredibly unnerving way of hers. She tilts her head in that catlike way of hers, both creepy and slightly endearing, and though they're in the middle of a rather dire situation, he can't help but be unexpectedly and finally reminded of who she reminds him of when she does that—the Cheshire cat, with his disappearing grin. Maybe that'll be his nickname for her; Little Bird, Ace, and the Cheshire Cat, off on an adventure.

Somehow, he doesn't think it'll stick.

"No," she says finally, drawing the word out a little. "No, no, no, no... Market Street, Farmer's Market, not the same thing. Very different. Market is fancy, drinks and smoke and pretty people. Very nice. Farmer's is dry, dusty, fruits and bees that sting. Not so nice. Ace...does not know this?"

"Ace doesn't know a lot of things, apparently," Jack mutters, more to himself than either of his companions.

"What's two plus two?" Sally, unsurprisingly, has recovered from her breakdown just in time to either poke fun at him or hand out some entirely unneeded sass that will probably end up insulting him in some way. Either way, he's probably about to be very annoyed with her.

"Fifteen," he replies sarcastically, tearing his gaze from El, who looks less than pleased with him (but at least she doesn't look downright murderous anymore) to Sally, who looks thoughtful. Jack actually wonders, naively, if she might have something insightful to say, but is, of course, disappointed.

To his face, she nods, but as they're moving out of the booth, heading back towards the way they came (as Jack and El finally agree, though she still won't tell him what this key is or what it's used for), Jack hears her whisper to herself, " _It's four. What kind of idiot doesn't know two plus two?_ "


	13. Chapter 13

"El, for God's sake. Would you please just tell us what this key thing you've been babbling on about for the past ten minutes is? If it's so important as to get us out of Rapture, then I think we deserve to know."

"Yeah, we deserve to know," Sally chimes in, repeating Jack's words verbatim, because she doesn't know what the adults are talking about  _exactly,_ but she wants to be included.

"Don't know how to explain," El mutters after a moment, turning back to lead them out of there. She'd tried to take them her way, but after discovering that they neither had meathooks or could even come anywhere near the rafters, they had been 'forced' to take the normal, relatively safe route. "El can...try. Ace figures it out, but El leaves clues. Hints."

"Like a puzzle?" Sally asks, rolling on the balls of her feet as she clutches at Jack's sweaty hand. After her failed attempt to climb on his shoulders or his hip, she'd demanded his hand instead. "I don't think I like puzzles."

Jack doesn't, either, but he understands where the splicer is coming from—her mind is delicate enough as it is, and while she's by no means a dumb creature, complicated sentences that are longer than ten words are clearly beyond her grasp. He'll take what he can get, so he nods sympathetically (or tries to) and waves his hand in a 'get on with it' motion. El nods as if she understands his impatience, and begins to try and tell them what she knows.

"Key to this place," she begins, brow furrowing as she tries to complicate the sentence to give them more information. "Key is dangerous. It can...destroy this place. For good, forever. Or, it can take us home. Use on bathysphere. We go...wherever we want. Home. Freedom." Her husky voice drops to a soft whisper on that last word, and Jack is started by how almost normal it sounds then. Her splicer voice is usually sharp and jagged, like a husky growl, but here, it sounds almost smooth, softer somehow. He wonders if it's the whisper or simply the longing in her voice.

"I thought we could just go wherever we wanted with the bathyspheres," Sally says, oblivious to either of their inner turmoils. "Jack—"

"We can," Jack turns to her, placating her quickly before she can start her moaning again and elaborates, turning so that he's addressing both of them at the same time. "We can. I've never needed a key to travel by bathysphere before. Though—okay, well, I guess  _technically_  those were all public transport vehicles, and I've never actually operated a private one before. So, maybe we  _would_ need a key—especially since we're meaning to travel to the surface, which is probably all kinds of unauthorized for a common citizen. So we'd need some kind of bathysphere skeleton key that overrides the commands or something?"

"Yes," El nods solemnly, clapping her hands together once. "We need a key. But where to get it? El knows. The Lion keeps it safe, in his office. Away from the parasites and the bad men. We must get it."

Oh, great. Another side quest, and another distraction to drag this little misadventure out for longer than it really needs to be. Why can't they just get on the bathysphere and go? Why does there always have to be another obstacle for them to overcome before they're that much closer to the surface? He just wants to get out of this city.  _Please._ He knows two out of the three people present have no right to it, or deserve it, but damnit, he's trying his best. Yes, he's going to spend the rest of his life trying to atone for the sins he's committed and trying to forget about this horrid place, but could he at least do it up there?

"Lion?" Sally asks, interrupting his train of thought. "You mean like Ryan the Lion?"

"Ryan the—" And then it clicks. "Ryan the Lion!" That creepy as fuck mascot from that children's "educational" film back in that kid's academy they'd passed through on their way here. Ryan really knew how to indoctrinate them, didn't he? That thought is pushed to the back of his mind as he realizes something else. "Wait, you don't mean...oh, God. Goddamnit. We need Andrew Ryan's genetic key, don't we? The key to all of Rapture." He laughs then, and it's not a pretty sound. It's hysterical, high-pitched, and something that wouldn't seem out of place in an insane asylum. Neither of his companions react negatively, though, if at all—Sally shifts slightly and El just cocks her head curiously. Curious cat.

He's going crazy.

"Alright, wait a second. You're saying we need Ryan's genetic key to get out of here? Either that, or else of this bullshit has been for nothing?"

"Yes."

"That...seems like an unnecessary complication. Does it have to be  _his_ genetic key? Didn't he have some sort of inner circle? Maybe one or all of them were trusted with the same privileges. I'm just saying, I'm not entirely certain we're gonna be able to get this very important item from one of the most powerful men in Rapture." In truth, he isn't actually sure that the key is still  _in_ Rapture—last he'd seen it he'd been plugging it into the control wall to stop the imminent destruction of the city he had been trying to escape. A small part of him figures that maybe, just maybe, Tenenbaum had enough sense to sneak back to Hephaestus and grab the key before fucking off to the surface, and he listens to that small part like its word is gospel. Why she'd even bother with it is another mystery entirely—maybe she'd needed it herself to get back home, or maybe she'd known that he'd need it and decided to further strand him here forever. Either way, he supposes it doesn't matter—they're not getting that key. Not Ryan's, anyway…

Wait. Hadn't he heard at one point, perhaps in an audio diary or something, that Sander Cohen was a member of Ryan's Council? If his memory serves correct, Sander Cohen is currently well and alive in Fort Frolic, though he had heard music coming from within an apartment in Olympus Heights last he'd visited—music that sounded suspiciously like Waltz of the Flowers. If they're already headed that way, it wouldn't hurt much to check, would it? If it means getting out of here, Jack is more than willing to do a bit of backtracking.

"El, if I may—I think I have an idea." He doesn't bother trying to come up with a way to explain his slightly insane plan to the deranged woman, instead hoping that she'll blindly trust him, the only sane person in this...whatever they are. "I don't think we need Ryan's key—it's in Hephaestus with him, and we have no way to get back there anyways. What we need to do is go back to Olympus Heights. I know someone there who'll be able to help, but their help won't come easy." In truth, they'll probably have to kill him, if someone hasn't beaten them to it, but Jack doesn't think the psychopathic 'artist' will prove to be much of a challenge. He thinks he should probably feel at least a little hesitant about killing yet another person that he used to know, but given all the bastard had put him through in Fort Frolic, he thinks he has a fair reason.

"Isn't that far away?" Sally asks, frowning as she looks from El to Jack. "We came from there a long time ago. Won't it take forever to get back?"

"It will," Jack says, sighing as he resigns himself to his fate. "But it's not like we have a choice. It's either backtrack, or stay here and rot." He turns to El now, speaking loud enough that Sally can overhear but making sure that his attention is on El. "The bathysphere we used to get to this section of the department store should still be there, and if my memory serves correct then we can simply use that to get to Olympus Heights."

"A good plan," El says, nodding, and promptly begins to walk away from them, leading the way back to which they came. She does not turn around or give any indication that she cares whether or not her companions follow.

Sally looks from El's retreating form to Jack, the frown on her face deepening. A silent question is written plain on her cherubic face, and Jack answers it with a silent expression of his own. He holds out a hand after a moment, letting her take it, and leading her away from the area and after El.

* * *

They eventually make their way back to the entrance of the Service Bay, and then further to the exit of the Bathysphere DeLuxe itself, managing to avoid complications like bloodthirsty splicers and what Jack guesses is probably a Big Daddy roaming about the upper levels, until finally they're inside the elevator that will take them down, back to that little area they'd had to pass through after they'd come out of the Preparatory Academy. As they backtrack their way through the department store, not a word is spoken between the three of them, each preferring to preserve the odd silence that has befallen the small group.

More than once, Jack is tempted to make an unnecessary comment or pass a snide remark about nothing in particular to break it, but ultimately, he decides against it. It doesn't feel right, somehow—-and besides, it's not like the silence is ominous or uncomfortable. Sure, it makes him uneasy, but he supposes they're all entitled to be lost in their own thoughts for a while. What El might be musing about, he has no idea—by all means, she's far brighter than most splicers, and she seems to have at least half her wits about her...even if she did go crazy and try to kill them earlier. Jack supposes there really isn't any point in asking her what's going through her head, so he doesn't bother. Sally, he has no idea about either—he knows she knows at least the basics of what's going on. He doesn't have too much experience with kids, he'll admit, but Sally seems an intelligent sort. Jack wonders what she might be thinking about right now—unlike El over there, she has all her wits about her, even if she doesn't know how to fully use them yet. Also unlike El, her naivety isn't due to ADAM splicing or a fading grip on reality—it's just the folly of youth. The kid's only seven, after all. But still, he wonders what she could be contemplating that could cause such a pensive expression to cross the young girl's face.

He decides to ask. "Hey, Sal?"

"Hm, yeah?"

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" His tone is intentionally level and false cheery, but he hopes that Sally won't pick up on it.

She doesn't seem to—either that or she knows better than to point it out. She takes a moment to answer, seeming to think about her words before she says them. "Well…" she begins slowly, then pauses. She slows her walk a little, distancing herself from El in front of them before turning to Jack. "I was just thinking. About...Lilly Poppy. Is it actually  _called_ Lilly Poppy?"

"It's not, it's just called...the surface, I guess. It's the outside world."

"Oh." She absorbs this information quickly, nodding slowly. "I wonder if I've ever been. Before...this place." She gestures vaguely around her, and Jack swears she has an almost sad expression on her face as she does so. It's hard to tell with the eyes though. "Hey, do you know who I am? I mean, is that why you're letting me come with you? Because you used to know me?"

"No," Jack says after a long moment, wondering why she's even asking. "I never knew any of the girls who are like you. I have no idea who you are, or who you used to be, or anything like that. I think...I think El knows, or at least used to, but there's no use in asking her anything now."

Sally looks from Jack to El, a thoughtful look adorning her cherubic features. There is a touch of something else there, souring the look, and it takes Jack a moment to realize it might be sorrow. An unusual emotion for an average seven year old girl—but then again, Sally is no ordinary child. This place, and the people inside it, have robbed her of that chance. "Yeah. I remember her. I told you, she saved me from the bad men. But...she doesn't remember me. El-izabeth knows me, but...El isn't El-izabeth, I guess? I don't know. I can't remember, and just thinking about it is making my brain fuzzy." She pauses for a long moment, so long that Jack thinks she's finished speaking and stops paying attention. "I don't think...she's not all there, is she? You said so, you said her mind was wrong. She's...broken. Like a glass dolly—cracked and fragile. If you throw her too hard, she's gonna break." A much shorter pause. "Again."

Jack nods, impressed with the fairly accurate analogy. "That's a good way of putting it, Sally. I don't think I could have said it better myself." He's silent for a moment, and so is she, and, thinking of nothing else that he can say, begrudgingly accepts the return of the silence until she decides to speak again.

"What about you, Jack? Do you remember anything?"

Well,  _that's_ a loaded question. Still, he supposes it wouldn't hurt anyone, least of all himself, to tell anybody, especially the kid. Who's she gonna tell, anyways? El won't care, Ryan is dead and so is Fontaine. Tenenbaum is God knows where—though, a small part of him hopes she's far, far away from her. For her sake or his, he can't discern. "Well—no. Not really. I'm from here myself, but apparently I left and went to the surface for about two years. I don't remember any of it though. I don't know if you'd understand the full story, but for now I'll just say I'm...kind of like you, in a way."

"Like me?" Sally frowns, not understanding as Jack figured, and he's about to explain further when her eyes light up and she grins. "Wait, like a Gatherer?"

"A...Gatherer?" That's the alternate (and true) name of the Little Sisters, isn't it? Jack is momentarily taken aback at this information, wondering where  _she_  picked it up, and how she even knows what it means. "How do you know about—"

"Well, that's what Papa Suchong and Mama Tenenbaum always called us. I guess that's what I am, but...were you a  _Gatherer_  too?"

"I—no, no. I was never a Gatherer. I'm kind of the opposite of a little girl, you know? But I was...I was one of Mama Tenenbaum and Papa Suchong's...experiments, like you guys. I was born and raised in their lab as an experiment, and they intended to have me kill some important people. I won't go into specifics."

"What kind of important people?"

"Doesn't matter. They're dead now."

"Did you do that?"

"Yes."

Sally nods like she understands perfectly, and maybe she does, or she thinks she does—Jack doesn't have the brainpower to get into that right now. He supposes it's not really that hard to understand—the kid isn't stupid, and it's not like he beat around the bush or anything. At least she's not judging him for it. Jack waits for her to say something else, but she doesn't, tearing her gaze away from him and focusing on the floor in front of her as she walks. They follow El into the smaller plaza that contains the entrance to that adult shop—Cupid's Arrow—and the exit to the Preparatory Academy. As they're passing through the glass double doors, Sally decides to spark a brief conversation again.

"Hey, Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"You really don't remember  _anything_ about the surface?"

"Not a thing, nope. I have...fake memories, inside my head. I think things have happened to me, and I think I remember stuff, but I actually don't. If we get out of here...if I ever see the sun, it'll be my first time."

" _Our,_ " she corrects with a smile, taking his hand and swinging it back and forth. "It'll be  _our_ first time. We'll get to see it together, and everything else up there for the first time ever. And we'll never have to leave if we don't want to, right?"

Jack, while surprised by her enthusiasm, isn't put off by it—in fact, he welcomes it, allowing himself to be cheered by the notion that maybe they'd stick together after all of this nightmare is over. For the first time since waking up alone next to Frank Fontaine's already rotting corpse, Jack allows himself to feel something that isn't despair or anger or regret—he doesn't know what it is, exactly, but he thinks it's dangerously close to hope.

"We sure will, Sal. We'll be able to go wherever we want, but we'll never  _have_ to go anywhere, least of all back here. We're going to leave this rotting hellhole behind, and everybody inside it. We're going to fix you and El, and we're gonna feel the sunshine on our faces and the grass beneath our feet." Sentimental words, he knows, and totally out of character for him, but the young lass beside him has a way of getting to him like that—though, as he watches the grin on her face widen, he supposes that's not necessarily a  _bad_ thing.

* * *

He decides to attempt a conversation with El sometime after, when they're almost to the bathysphere that will lead them out of this section of the department store. With any luck, they'll be back in the main entrance to the actual department store and just a few skips away from the bathysphere that will take them back to central Rapture in less than an hour, if there are no complications—which there shouldn't be. They've already come most of the way, all the way through the Preparatory Academy ,and eventually through the air ducts and down the elevator that he and Sally had come through, as apparently there had been no other way. Jack had been expecting another freak out on El's part when they'd come across her mangled other-self again, but as if this whole situation couldn't get any weirder, when she'd spared the body a passing glance, she had seemed to not even recognize the woman impaled on the rebar. Jack and Sally, though they took the blessing at face-value, still kept a cautious eye on her as they moved around the Toy Department. The only major obstacle left now is making their way through this again, and then the rest should be a piece of cake.

"Hey, El?"

El, who is several steps ahead, does not hear him the first couple of times—it's only when Sally shouts it from the top of her lungs does El startle and turn around, meathooks out in an aggressive stance. "Whoa, calm down. I just wanted to talk."

"Talk." El's eyes narrow, and Jack is worried for a second that El-izabeth has returned and it somehow escaped their notice, but then her eyes soften and she nods once. "Oh. Yes. Talk." Then her brow furrows in confusion. "About what?"

"Just…" he glances at Sally, who is giving him a weird look. The kind of look that he's come to recognize, at least on her face, as 'we don't have time for this, what are you doing'. Well, she can shove it. They might as well get to know each other if this whole plan goes to shit. "I don't know. Just talking. A way to pass the time. Put—put the meathooks away, El."

El glances at the weapons in her hands, then shakes her head and complies with the request. She doesn't move as her two companions hurry to catch up to her, and not even when Sally cautiously skips ahead does the splicer follow. Instead, she waits for Jack to follow Sally, and she quickly follows him instead.

"You...want to talk?" she asks after a moment, when Jack has not said anything.

"Yeah, I guess," he replies much more nonchalantly than he feels. This whole thing suddenly feels very out of place and awkward, but he'd been curious about the splicer for a long while now, and if she remembers anything about her past...he'd never actually asked her, had he? Never really... _initiated_ a conversation with her. Now that she's seeming to grasp a bigger vocabulary, pronouns included, and she's proven that she's not quite as mindless as others of her kind, maybe he can finally have a half-way sane conversation with somebody for the first time in...well...forever.

"Oh."

Or maybe not.

They don't say much more after that, until Jack thrusts his hand in his pocket and feels something he'd completely forgotten about. He stops and pulls it out, examining it for a moment before offering it to El. "Ah, by the way—this is yours. You dropped it a while ago, when we first came through here. Do you want it back?"

El stops in her tracks, more out of curiosity than shock or confusion, and gingerly places two fingers on the ribbon in Jack's outstretched palm. She picks it up, rubbing the soft, nameless material between her fingers, before smiling the softest smile he's ever seen—on her or anyone else—and holding it to her chest. She nods at him, and continues walking.

"You're not going to put in in your hair?" he asks, not that he really cares, but. Better to fill the ominous silence surrounding them with pointless questions—better to constantly remind himself that he's not alone, even if his companions are less than ideal. Still, for companions down here, they're probably the best he could have gotten.

She pauses for the briefest of moments, then continues, using her free hand to gently stroke a section of her hair for a few seconds. Jack belatedly realizes that the section is completely white, and remembers catching a glimpse of it when he'd first met her. When she doesn't respond, he decides to bring it up.

"What's  _with_  the white hair, anyway?"

El stops walking, looking at him curiously before bringing the section of snow white hair to in front of her face, seeming to examine it closely. It takes a few moments for her to respond, and when she does, her voice is quiet and unsure—a first for her. "El...does not know. She…" she shakes her head furiously, clutching her skull between her palms as if to chase away some terrible intrusive thought or to clear her head from a migraine. Her face is still in her hands when she talks again, a moment later. "... _I_ do not know. It...was not always there. I woke up one day, and it was...there..." She trails off, surprised by her words, and so is Jack, for two reasons. One, she just referred to herself in the first person, which she has never done before. Jack realizes that she's come a long way in terms of speech when they'd first met her—maybe they'd rubbed off on her? Perhaps her every so brief return to sanity, back at the end of the Toy Department just before they'd split up, had repaired some of her mental pathways? He doesn't know, but, he  _does,_ surprisingly, care.

Two, her speech is far more eloquent than last he'd heard her speak—the last time, she had been trying to warn Jack of enemy splicers ahead in the Preparatory Academy, but she'd done so haltingly and using words that sounded as though they came from the 1910's. In the end she'd never gotten her point across and they'd almost gotten ambushed. This is the first time, Jack thinks, that she sounds almost human. It worries him for some reason.

"Maybe when Sally brought you back to life, it was a sort of side effect," he offers by way of an explanation, realizing he'd been quiet for longer than was probably considered polite. But she doesn't respond—she's looking up and ahead, a horrified expression on her gruesome face. "Are...you okay?"

She glances at him, and those mismatched eyes seem to stare straight into his soul. Neither one speaks or moves for several moments—indeed, both seem afraid to even breathe, in fear of starting the fragile tension between them. Jack is about to call out to Sally, maybe run for his life, when he hears it. It's faint, far off in the distance, but as they've neared the exit to the Toy Department (or rather, the entrance), it's not that hard to distinguish what's being said by the lovely voice on the radio somewhere far off.

" _I'll be...so alone...without you...maybe you'll be lonesome too...and bluuuue…._ "

He...he recognizes that voice, doesn't he?

And so does she. Because it's  _hers._

He frantically searches for Sally out of the corner of his eye, and he finds her sitting on the steps leading to the door, waiting for them. She's caught on that something's wrong, and is quietly moving to open the door. Jack doesn't see any other option, and there's nothing really  _wrong_ with that, but he is worried that any sudden movement might jar El—or El-izabeth—out of whatever stupor she's captive in. But once the doors are open, the music flows through a bit more freely, the words clearer and the voice more distinguishable—and that is when El moves. Not to attack anybody—her meathooks don't come out, her face doesn't twist in rage, and she doesn't start talking like she did before. Whatever happened last time—and he still isn't sure exactly  _what_ that was—it's clear it's not going to happen again.

El moves wordlessly past Jack, barely brushing past him, and ignores Sally when the girl calls out to her. She slowly but determined makes her way to the entrance, passes through the doors, and turns the corner without sparing a second glance to her companions. Jack and Sally, after a shared worried glance, quickly follow in her footsteps, and emerge soon enough in the locker room leading back to the rest of the department store.

A radio is playing in here, somewhere, the final chorus of what Jack recognizes to be "You Belong to Me", obviously covered by El here in her time spent with Sander Cohen. The voice on the radio, both recognizable and not as belonging to  _Miss Elizabeth._ Jack decides, out of curiosity, to listen.

" _Fly the ocean in a silver plane,_

_See the jungle when it's wet with rain,_

_Just remember, 'til you're home again,_

_You belong to me..._ "

Her regular splicer voice is somewhat reminiscent of this, he notes with no small amount of wonder—soft but harsh at the same time, like a fine wine with a bitter and long-lingering aftertaste. Smooth but jagged at the same time, and it shouldn't make sense to put those two words together, but somehow it fits, and it feels  _right_. Though...usually, her voice is rougher than this, as if she's growling constantly or she smokes a pack a day. But here...here, he hears her voice, and is suddenly overcome with a longing for a time he never knew. He imagines that her voice must have been beautiful once—and of course it would have been, if she'd worked for Cohen. It's no wonder she's transfixed, looking at the radio as if it holds the secret to her past, and the key to fixing her broken self now. Is she El-izabeth now, he wonders? Had hearing her voice, like seeing her own dead body, brought her old and real self back to her mind? There's only one way to find out.

"...El?" he ventures, cautiously, once the song ends and he has Sally safely tucked away behind him. "Are you—"

"Oh," she breathes, cutting him off, and Jack starts because of the sharpness in that simple gesture. He reaches for his pistol behind his back, giving Sally a pointed look. "Oh,  _oh._ What is...this...what is this? I don't—I  _feel_ —different. The doors, the doors are gone—I can't see—the doors... _you…_ " She tears her gaze away from the silent radio, looking around her as she babbles until her eyes rest upon Jack. "You! I know you!"

Jack flicks the safety off of his pistol. "Do you now?" he asks cooly, keeping his voice level. He doesn't really want to hurt her, not if he doesn't have to, and damnit, he  _knows_ what a weakness that is. But El's a friend...kind of. El-izabeth is not.

"I think...yes, I think I do." She frowns for a moment, trying to place where she could possibly know him from. He wonders who he's going to be first this time—Booker, or Comstock? He still doesn't know who they are. He resolves to ask if she makes it out of this.

Sally tugs on his dress shirt sleeve. "Jack, we gotta go," she whispers urgently. Unfortunately for her, she did not whisper so much as speak normally but in a soft tone, and so El-izabeth hears her. Seeing the Little Sister, apparently, is what makes everything click into place for the woman, and she grins, pointing at her triumphantly.

"Yes! I know you! I know you both! Sally, Sally, oh, I've been worried sick about you...you've no idea what I've been through to keep you safe. I guess shouldn't have worried though—look at you, you're in good hands!" Here she grins at Jack, clapping her bony hands together. A white ice cloud forms a wisp above her joined hands before disappearing. "You found him, Sally! The  _Savior._ "

She looks so damn pleased with herself, Jack hates to burst her bubble—especially considering she doesn't look like she wants to skewer him and take the kid—but bursting bubbles is kind of his niche. So—"Excuse me, but what the fuck?"


	14. Chapter 14

El-izabeth cocks her head curiously, looking closely between the two of them and frowning deeply. The sudden shift from the happy, almost euphoric expression she had been wearing to the dark look of thoughtful confusion startles Jack, though not staggeringly so. It's happened before, and under far less amicable circumstances. Jack only hopes that his rather impromptu outburst hadn't awoken the _other_ version, and as the uncomfortable silence drags on his fears intensify.

But El-izabeth, finally, only shakes her head, a small smile creeping back onto her face as she looks at Jack and Sally, her smile stretching a bit as she gazes at the Sister. "…Yes, the Savior. You're him, aren't you? The Savior of the Little Sisters?" She doesn't elaborate further, waiting patiently for him to fill in the blanks.

Sally stands up a bit straighter behind Jack, looking bewildered up at him and mouthing something incomprehensible. Whether it's a secret message for him or just a manifestation of her own private thoughts is unclear, but it's not the most important thing on Jack's mind right now, because  _what the fuck did she just say._

Jack replays the sentence in his head a couple of times, making certain he hadn't misheard or misinterpreted before giving a level and non-committal response, just in case his denial would flip her crazy switch. He coughs awkwardly, ignoring Sally's boring gaze, and levels his eyes with El-izabeth's, trying to ignore her matching stare. "When you say  _savior…_ "

"Oh, it's okay! You don't have to be modest with me. I'm on your side. I know exactly what you've done, and may I say, well done indeed. I could have never survived an encounter with one of those big metal brutes. But you did, several times,  _and_ you saved all those girls on top of it. Truly inspiring."

Jack is rendered speechless—what could he really say to that, anyways? A million questions are racing through his head right now, chief among them being where the hell she's getting her facts and what happened to the 'psycho murderer' persona of before. This is completely out of left field—there was no buildup to this, it just—happened. He's still trying to process it when Sally speaks up, as confused and bewildered as he but still trying to remain mostly non-confrontational.

"El…we don't know what you're talking about," she tries, cautiously, and it's clear that she doesn't really know what to say either. She looks to Jack, quickly, and it's painfully obvious from her expression that she's silently requesting backup here. He definitely can't give it, and it'll probably hurt to try.

He gives it a shot anyways, taking pity on the poor kid who's trying to explain the situation she doesn't fully understand all by herself. "Look, I'm going to be level with you—I think you're out of your fucking mind. I didn't  _save_ any little girls. I don't know what the hell you're on about, or where you're coming from, but I'm no 'savior'. I haven't heard from Brigid Tenenbaum in forever—she abandoned me, which considering what I actually did do, is fair. We're not—"

"Jack isn't...He's just Jack," Sally stumbles, pressing closer to Jack and clutching his shirt sleeve in her pale fist. She doesn't seem to understand why he's so against the idea, but she recognizes that he doesn't like it, so it can't be good. Not for the first time, Jack's glad he got one of the smart ones. "Just Jack. Remember, El? We're gonna get a bathysphere and go to Lilly-Poppy. The surface, where the sun and the sky is. Remember?"

"Sally, she doesn't—"

"Lilly-Poppy…" El-izabeth repeats slowly, finally tearing her patronizing gaze away from Jack and murmuring it under her breath. "Lilly-Poppy…the surface…yes…" Her eyes light up suddenly, and she points at Sally, grinning manically. Sally jumps and retreats further behind Jack, nearly tearing his shirt sleeve in her haste. "Yes! The surface! The surface, and the sun and the sky…and Paris…Paris, Paris, Paris…We're in  _Paris,_ Booker…" she laughs, and the sound is not attractive. It's grating, like nails on a chalkboard, and Jack winces when he hears it.

There's that name again, too— _Booker._ Who the hell is Booker? Another question on his never-ending list that will probably never be answered. He gives her a moment to rant and rave—now she seems to be conversing with herself in a language he doesn't even recognize, or maybe it's just gibberish. Either way, he takes the few seconds to get his bearings, pushing down his growing anxiety, before clearing his throat loudly, quickly grabbing her attention.

Which should he address first? The Savior thing, or the fact that they still have a lot of ground to cover before they're free? Well, technically speaking, free. Jack decides that the few seconds it should take to answer the first concern would be worth it—it'll eat him up otherwise, and it's not like they're pressed for time.

"So, ah, Elizabeth, is it?" When she nods, far too enthusiastically for his tastes, he sighs. "Right. So, what's all this business about me being a 'savior'? Care to elaborate, in the most concise way possible?"

Unsurprisingly, she takes little to no time to come up with a convoluted response that both beats around the bush and douses it in gasoline before setting it aflame. "You're the Savior of the Little Sisters, of course. You and Dr. Tenenbaum, I know all about you—you both worked endlessly and risked your lives to save all those kids, after this city's science had victimized them. You almost killed yourself every time you went toe to toe with a Big Daddy, but it was all worth it in the end to you, as long as you were able to save the girl. It's truly incredible what you've done here. I mean, saving  _every_ girl and delivering them to safety? Ignoring Atlas—or, should I say Fontaine—when he tried to manipulate you into sacrificing them for yourself? I'm honored to even be in your presence. Didn't think I'd get to be, I was supposed to die before 1960 came around…oh well…"

Jack stares blankly at her, heart pounding, head light, waiting for his brain to process the words she's saying and come up with a reasonable response, but nothing comes. Nothing even happens for several seconds as they all stare at each other, El-izabeth gazing at Jack adoringly, Sally looking between the two adults in a mix of confusion and worriedness, and Jack's expression betraying nothing at all. El-izabeth continues speaking, but he doesn't know what she's saying—he'd stopped listening when the roar of blood in his ears had gotten too loud.

Each word she says is like a sledgehammer to his chest. Each sentence is a delusional fabrication of her damaged psychosis, the exact opposite of the horrific truth. He can't listen to this anymore, he can't stand her voice, he can't stand—he takes a deep breath and leans against a nearby locker, shutting his eyes tightly. It occurs to him then, painfully abrupt in his frantic state, that she doesn't actually know the truth about what he'd really done to those girls—he'd never planned on telling her, actually. Sally, definitely, one day, but never El, or El-izabeth, or Elizabeth, or whoever the fuck she was. She doesn't get to know—she's not one of the dozens of little girls he'd brutalized in his…his…whatever the hell it was. He hadn't thought about it much since he'd woken up alone in Fontaine's lair and decided to freestyle it, and he certainly was not going to do so now. He can't afford another panic attack right now.

He takes several short, deep breaths to calm himself, not daring to close his eyes in case he missed…something. El-izabeth is still talking, he can't make out the words, but Sally seems to be listening intently, so it can't be good. He ignores the both of them for a moment while he gets his bearings, and continues to tune El-izabeth out while he checks on the girl behind him. Sally is perhaps even more confused than he is—but, as she looks between the two adults, he has a sinking feeling most of her questions are to be aimed at him.

"What is she talking about?"

She couldn't possibly know that El-izabeth is lying, so Jack doesn't bother telling her. Maybe if he too ignores the past, what, day or so? It will have never happened. Ignorance is bliss, after all. "Remember back when she tried to kill us the second time? This is like that, I guess, except…different for some reason." He looks back at the spliced woman, who is looking at him expectantly. He's not planning on acknowledging any of her delusions. "Just ignore her. She's not murderous right now, so even though she's probably useless, we'll be fine. She'll snap out of it soon enough."

Sally nods solemnly, turning back to El-izabeth and shifting closer to Jack's leg, putting it between her and—whatever the hell that thing is. She looks up at him, staring intently, and Jack is about to ask what the hell she means by that when he remembers the bigger issue at hand. He shakes his head, swallowing down the bile that threatens to rise, and holds up a hand. Sally is still staring at him intently, and he moves his head so that he can't see her even out of the corner of his eye. This, of course, has him staring directly at a locker, so after a moment he begrudgingly turns his face to El-izabeth's, who is also watching him intently. Her gaze, however, is filled with mild admiration and maybe some reverence. Jack closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see it.

"…Right. El—Elizabeth, is it?" He stops for a moment, waiting for her to say her name out loud or maybe nod enthusiastically. He might hate this version even more than the first one—at least the first one was predictable, somewhat, with the yelling and the aggression. This version might worship him if he asked, and he cringes at the thought. He sighs mentally, pretending that she's nodded, and continues. "So, uh, we were kind of in the middle of something when you popped in. Mind giving us a hand, if you remember what we were doing?"

"…What are you talking about? We weren't doing anything, and I've been here for at least twenty minutes. I think the Paris sun is getting to your head, you dolt." She laughs, or tries to, but the sound comes out a bit garbled and sounding like a garbage disposal. Jack actually jumps at the sound, eyeing her worriedly. "Not to worry. I'll order more croissants for the table. Oh, waiter!" she calls, smiling gaily, and turns around, pointer finger high in the air as she walks off.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," says Jack a few moments later, when she's almost out of earshot, "but I actually miss the other version. Granted, it still sucked when she thought I was going to kill you and she tried to kill  _us,_ but I'd rather have that than…whatever this is. I can't wait until El comes back."

Once she's out of earshot, Sally turns to him again, a cautious look in her eye. "None of that stuff is true, is it?"

"The stuff she said about me? 'Course it's not. She's crazy, you know that."

Sally is silent for a moment, choosing her next words carefully—then, almost hesitantly—"She said you were a savior."

A brief pause. "She's wrong."

"You said you didn't 'save any little girls'. You told her that the—that…Ten-en-baum left you, and you said that she was right to because of something you did." When Jack doesn't respond, face turned from her and breathing heavy, she tentatively continues, moving away from him. "What  _did_ you do?"

An even longer pause, finally broken by a defeated sigh. "It doesn't matter," he deflects, hoping that'll be the end of it. If Sally was more situationally aware, it might have been, but of course Jack has to remind himself that she's just a kid. A scared, hopeless little kid, whom just yesterday he probably would have killed.

"Will you tell me?"

"Tell you  _what?_ " The words come out harsher than he's intended them, and he winces as Sally flinches. She draws away from him, folding her arms across her chest protectively. He sighs. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that…" he trails off, off-put by the strange look he's still getting from her. He knows what she wants, but he's not willing to give it to her. Technically, she never  _has_ to know—he can dodge her questions and ignore her dirty looks all day long, but some part of him feels like he owes it to her. He doesn't know why.

Would she understand? Would she accept his apology, and accept that he's trying to do right by her and maybe even El? He's not going to give any excuses, or try and twist her thinking. He knows what he did, and she deserves to know, if she wants to. She'll probably hate him, call him all sorts of creative nasty names that only young children can imagine are insulting. Maybe she'll want to leave him, go off on her own thinking she could make it by herself in this city. She wouldn't last five minutes. Smart kid, sure, resourceful, even, but a killer? Not a chance.

Jack, on the other hand…

No. He can't have that on his conscience. Not another one.

"I don't know."

"It can't be that bad," she says in a poor attempt at reassurance. Her expression is hopeful, expectant, and Jack can't handle that. "The bad man did a lot of bad things. That's why he's called 'the bad man'. You're just Jack."

"I—it's not that simple, kiddo." He has to appreciate her attempt at humor, however flat it had fallen. "I may not be as bad as Fontaine, but I'm sure as hell not any better. I've done bad things—worse than you could ever imagine, and I'm never going to be able to wash myself of those sins. I'm never going to find redemption for the things I've done, but I'm hoping that you'll understand that I'm at least trying. It's better if you don't know, Sally, really."

Sally, for once, correctly gauges the seriousness of the situation, and though she looks troubled by his words, she nods shakily, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. "S'okay. I won't hate you, and I won't run away. We're friends and we need each other." She looks up at him, those haunting golden eyes staring into his soul. "And friends don't lie."

"Friends don't lie," he repeats, hollowly. God, he's so fucked.

Friends? Since when were they  _friends_? They were  _acquaintances,_ at the very  _least._ Unlikely acquaintances, in fact—all of them, and that's definitely not a good thing. Jack very pointedly ignores the very obvious fact that he's deflecting, because  _yeah, okay, I guess after the shit the two of us have been through, we could be considered friends. Why not? It's not like we have any to spare._ Though on the other hand, there's no way in hell. Friends mean you care about people, and the last couple of people he'd even slightly cared about had ended up stabbing him in the back, one of them literally. But what's the little imp gonna do? Stab him with an ADAM needle? Yeah, right. He supposes he can make an exception for her, and maybe eventually El too, but if they betray him too he swears he's never making friends again, because they suck.

"Wait, does having  _friends_ suck or are you saying that we suck? Because either way that's rude, Jack."

" _You're_ rude. Little eavesdropper," he mutters, though there's no real bite behind it. He knows she's right—who is he kidding? He'd long given up the notion that it would be easy to discard of the kid once they're out—they've got a thing going on, here. He's been trying to avoid thinking about that particular catch—he'd been  _meaning_  to dump her off at the first orphanage he could find, but the more time he'd spent down here with her, the quicker he'd realized that his new personal attachment to the kid wouldn't let that happen. It's not going to stop him, though. Even El has grown on him, even if her constant personality shifts are getting to be tiresome.

"It's not eavesdropping if everyone can hear you, Jack," El-izabeth, speaking of, calls from somewhere up ahead—neither Jack or Sally can see her, but they'd decided that they'd walk and she'd just follow. Quicker that way, or so it was supposed to be. "Hey, I think it's going to rain. I could have  _sworn_ I felt a raindrop a moment ago…it's a good thing I brought my parasol."

* * *

Whoever this new version is, she's  _very_ unlike the aggressive, no-nonsense type back in the Toy Department—the first round, at least. She's completely different from El, who is usually Also no nonsense but in an aloof sort of way that Jack's come to like. This version doesn't say much, thankfully, but when she does speak, it's about…Paris, of all things. Croissants and the Eiffel Tower, and that Booker person is mentioned more than once. Jack doesn't learn any more about him through her continued ravings, which sucks, because if she was going to talk nonsense at least shed some light on it.

She seems to think they're in France, walking around the quarter like it's a lazy stroll in the afternoon sun and not a fight for every second of their fucking lives. Needless to say, he's not very fond of it, or her. Sally doesn't seem too pleased with her antics either, more than once trying to tell her off for 'being stupid', even once trying to re-explain the plan to her. El-izabeth had promptly scoffed, mentioned something to Jack about 'overactive imaginations', and walked off. Sally had refused to speak to her after that one.

"It's okay, Sal," he'd comforted the distraught girl, patting her lightly on the head. "El will come back soon enough."

"Well, what made her come back last time? I'm sick of whoever  _this_ is. She's so rude and stupid. You're right, the mean lady who tried to kill us was way better. I'd rather be scared than bored."

"We weren't with her when she cooled off last time, remember? We were in the elevator on our way to the bathyspheres when  _she_ contacted  _us._  Maybe if we attacked her, or reminded her about her splicer persona, we could—I don't know, jolt her out of her mind. Maybe we could play that song again, whichever one she was singing." At seeing Sally's expression, he stifled a chuckle, shaking his head. She appeared to be seriously considering his ideas, and while they weren't  _terrible_ , they definitely had better things to do. "Honestly, I think the best thing for it is to just let it pass. We might bring someone worse if we try to mess with it. Hell, we could probably leave her now, give her the slip, and she'd find a way to contact us when she returned to normal." Well,  _her_ normal, anyways. He's got to say, though, that meeting these other… _variations_ of her have been enlightening, to say the least. Puts things into some much needed perspective—sure, El isn't the most sane person he's ever met, but she's pretty good for a splicer, and at least  _she_ knows what's what most of the time. Murder-psycho, he wasn't very fond of, but she was loads better than this bimbo.

Sally seems to be seriously considering this idea, nodding slowly as she stares ahead at El-izabeth. "Yeah, that's a good plan. I'll distract her while you run, and I'll catch up to you. Or, no,  _you_ distract her. You can catch up to me. You're better with that flashy stuff, and I can run real fast. Faster than you I bet."

"Sally," he sighs after a moment, realizing she's serious. "Sally, Sally. I was  _kidding_. We're not ditching El, no matter how off her rocker she is right now." It is a bit ironic, to him at least, that the real El is the most sane out of all her shattered psyche pieces, considering said pieces were parts of her past life, but he doesn't bother pointing this out to Sally. "We'll wait for El to come back, and if she doesn't, I guess we have no choice but to leave her. Right now we've got better things to worry about, like finding that genetic key and getting out of here."

Sally frowns, scrunching her tiny face in displeasure, but she nods, turning to Jack. "Right. We gotta get out of here. With or without El."

With that in mind, she takes Jack's hand, leading him to follow in El-izabeth's footsteps, who, despite all appearances, appears to know where they're supposed to be going—so Jack and Sally feel perfectly fine with ignoring her almost completely until they reach the main entrance of the department store. El-izabeth, more than once, tries to engage them in brief conversations, mostly about what he suspects are Parisian aspects of life, but more than once she mentions something he's never even heard of and strongly suspects she just made up. He ignores her all the same, refusing, like Sally, to engage with her unless absolutely necessary—none of them have time for this bullshit, and he's got more important things on his to-do list than wonder what the hell a 'Star Wars' is. El-izabeth doesn't seem to mind that no one is speaking to her—it doesn't stop her delusions, at any rate, and she seems perfectly content to simply talk to herself. Jack has half a mind to end her misery right now, but as he absentmindedly reaches for his gun Sally gives him a  _look,_ and without a word he relents.

The three of them make their way past the various shops and centers of the abandoned department store, past and through previous spaces where they'd trekked before, and occasionally picking up supplies wherever they saw them. Jack sees more than one Circus of Values and is tempted to make a stop, but the first and only time he'd tried, El-izabeth had gone way up ahead, and it had taken a good five minutes to find her again—lounging in the rafters, of all places, and rambling about the Eiffel Tower. He hadn't dared to let her out of his sight again after that, but that's not to say he isn't tempted.

The entire time they're wandering, Jack's wondering where all the splicers have gone. There had been very few in the first place, made even scarcer by their timely demises at the trio's hands, but Jack had expected new ones to pop up in their places. That's what had always happened before, in the main areas of Rapture—but then again, there had been  _people_ down here when the department store had sunk. Jack didn't know when the store had sunk, or more likely,  _been_  sunk, but it must have been a long time ago, because it looks like most of the people have killed each other off. A few years of kill or be killed in an isolated area, with no food or water—either you get killed or you starve. Either way, everyone is fucked. He doesn't really care much about anyone else, as long as he and Sally can get out. El, he's starting to care about, but if she keeps up this two-faced act he's definitely going to be shooting her before they're even halfway out of here.

Eventually, they finally reach the main entrance of the store, where the bathysphere is, and where this whole triple partnership had begun—Jack is glad they're finally leaving this place. It's too unpredictable, too quiet, and too damn cold. Not that the rest of Rapture is any better, but at least there, there's plenty of wood to make a decent fire. Sally too sighs in relief at seeing the craft bobbing slowly in the water. She looks up at Jack and grins, though it lessens slightly when she hears El-izabeth speak from somewhere to their right. Talking more nonsense, as usual—Jack has half a mind to kill her now and put up with Sally's bitching for the rest of the time.

"It's a lovely night at the Ritz. Oh, I can hear the nightingale singing!" she babbles, clasping her hands together and gazing adoringly at the ceiling. There's rafters crisscrossing the place, but that doesn't stop the view of the windows that are cracked in several places—some just hairline fractures, others threatening to collapse at any moment, and some in the middle, which are already starting to leak. The smell of brine is almost overwhelming, though everyone present has been down here so long it's barely an inconvenience. He wonders, absently, what the outside world smells like. It has to be better than this.

Wait a second.

"The Ritz Hotel is in London, not Paris," he says incredulously, slightly surprised that he even knows that. He figures, though, that it's probably not too much of a stretch—after all, it's a popular tourist attraction, and he  _had_ spent a little time on the surface, even if he can't remember any of it. Sally looks at him, just as surprised as she raises an eyebrow. "It's a popular hotel, on the surface—lots of people go there to eat. I've never been, personally—I don't have the money or the interest."

"Do they serve Ritz crackers there?"

" _What_?...No, I don't think so. Why would they? It's a fancy restaurant, and you have to pay out the ass to even step through the door, and even then you're getting a tiny portion on a tiny plate. They aren't going to be serving stuff you can get at the supermarket."

"Well, if it's called the  _Ritz_ …"

He has to laugh at that, reluctant though it may be, running a hand over his face and turning away from the girl with a small smile on his face. It feels weird, especially given the overall situation and the fact that he's never really  _smiled_ before, which—how sad is that? But there's something about this girl that warrants it, even if it doesn't last for longer than a few seconds. "Please, remind me why I thought it was a good idea to bring you along."

"I got us this far, didn't I?" she shoots back defensively, fully aware of the joking tone in his voice.

"You haven't actually  _done_ anything, mind you. I've been doing all the heavy lifting, which, may I remind you,  _includes_ you, miss 'I-don't-want-to-walk-anywhere'."

"No, I'm  _Sally._ "

"Kid, I swear—"

Their 'bickering' is interrupted by a high-pitched, grating screech, coming from the bathysphere. Jack turns, startled, and is only slightly relieved when it turns out it's just El-izabeth, trying to grab their attention. She bangs one of her meathooks against the side of the craft, creating a small dent in the metal, and Jack winces at the sound, suddenly transported to a time not so long ago where that was the most terrifying sound in the world. The first noise he'd heard upon coming to Rapture, when that Rosebud splicer had torn out the mechanics of the Welcome Bathysphere. Jack starts a moment later when the possibility occurs to him of El-izabeth doing the same thing, and he turns fully to her.

"Elizabeth, what the hell are you doing?" he calls, worried as he races to catch up with her.

El-izabeth cocks her head, inspecting him curiously, as if he'd just asked a difficult or ridiculous question and not a perfectly sensible one. Though, he supposes that this one doesn't really  _do_ sense. Nevertheless…he tries again. "Elizabeth, get away from there. There's no sense in tearing out the electronics. It'll just strand us here."

No response. El-izabeth continues staring strangely at him, with an expression on her half melted face he can't quite discern—whether  _because_ of the state of her face, or because it's a foreign emotion is unclear. She tilts her head back and forth, perfectly content to stand by the bathysphere and refuse to allow them to move closer. Sally tries, but when the splicer snarls and brandishes a hook, she quickly retreats.

"Put her down, Jack," she says after that. "If El won't come back, then we should just leave her. I want to get out of here—I'm cold and wet and I hate this place. You  _promised,_ Mister Jack."

"I know, I know I did." He sighs, shutting his eyes tightly and rifling through his options. Okay, number one: he could listen to the sense Sally is making and put a bullet in this bitch, saving both of them a lot of trouble in the long run,  _or,_ number two: he could try and convince El-izabeth to move away from the bathysphere, then grab Sally and lure the splicer inside. Or, a combination of the two—he lures El-izabeth away and then he and Sally go on without her. This option suits the logical side of his mind best, but his stomach churns in a weird way when he thinks about El eventually returning to consciousness and realizing they'd ditched her because of something she ultimately couldn't control. She wouldn't be able to catch up to them, or possibly even contact them—they'd be leaving her to die. Jack curses out loud as he realizes the  _old_ him never would have even  _considered._ It'd be,  _boom,_ another splicer dead, let's go kid. But now...

Why did he have to grow a  _conscience_ , of all things? He's not a good person. He doesn't care about anyone but himself—hell, he'd been planning to ditch the  _kid_ as soon as they got topside, and he'd already been planning to kill the splicer before they ever got on the bathysphere. But, damnit, they've grown on him, Sally far more so than El, but…El deserves to be free, too. She and Sally both deserve to see the sun, even if they'll never survive in the real world. She's just a victim, a victim of circumstance—and she  _had_ helped them, even if she was prone to fits of extreme insanity. They're all victims of Rapture, in their own ways—Sally, of Tenenbaum and Suchong's mad genius, El, of Ryan's altruistic mania—and him, the worst of all, a bona fide monster, born to serve without fault and without choice. He was never supposed to make it out of here—and maybe he never will.  _He_  doesn't deserve to. Maybe Tenenbaum had the right idea after all.

Jack has no idea where all of this emotion is coming from all of a sudden. He doesn't know when he'd changed his mind about El or decided that his top priority  _wasn't_ himself. He sighs again, long and low, as he resigns himself to…whatever this is. Feelings? Emotions?  _Morals?_ Perish the thought. He turns to Sally, removing his hand from where it had rested on the grip of his pistol. "…No."

" _What?_ "

"No…no. No, we—we can't. I promised El, too. You're not any more deserving than she is. You've both been hurt by this city, and it's only fair you both get out.  _All_ of us are getting out of here, no matter how long it takes. Would it be faster without El? …Yeah, it would. But we can't just  _leave_ her. I wouldn't leave you."

"I have feelings. I can  _think,_ and I can understand stuff. I know what I'm doing, I'm not crazy like her. I wanna go  _up,_ up to the—surface."

"Do you think she doesn't? You think she's just—just some  _thing_ , waiting to die? She's barely surviving down here, Sally, and it's only a matter of time before she kicks the bucket. She's going to die down here, whether by my hand or someone else's. She's come this far, let's just—let's help her get farther. Let's help get  _her_ up there, too."

Sally, for all her growing dislike of El—Jack had realized that she dislikes what El's become even more than he himself does—has the decency to look a little ashamed. She huffs, folding her arms across her chest, but she nods, a sad expression crossing her face. "…Fine. You're right. She…El wants to be free too. She's helped us get this far—I guess it's fair that she gets to come along. But what about El-izabeth? What if she never goes away, and we don't get El back?"

"We'll burn that bridge when we get to it," he reassures her, fully aware that that's not the correct term. He places a reassuring hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. "I'm not leaving either of you twisting in the wind."

She nods, once, and so slightly that he almost doesn't notice—but he does, and he leaves it at that for now. He turns back to El-izabeth, who had apparently realized that they were talking about her, and had inched closer to hear more. She's now a good couple of feet away from the boat, and he looks at Sally, motioning towards it.

Wordlessly, the two of them walk to the craft, managing to pry the door open and climb in, and as Sally situated herself on the worn leather seats, Jack stands in the doorway, holding out a hand to El-izabeth. He expects some smarmy, delusional remark, probably about Parisian etiquette, but she just stares blankly at the proffered hand.

A silence follows, threatening with each passing second to become incredibly awkward, and Jack nervously shakes his hand out to get her to understand what he wants her to do. She understands, but she still doesn't take it. Sally coughs behind him, and it sounds suspiciously like the words 'let's go'. Jack takes a deep breath, and sticks it out farther, hoping that she'll either finally take it or just brush past him and get inside. If she doesn't, he's going to have to use force, and he's not sure how well that's going to work out. He'd hate to be in an enclosed space with murder-psycho.

It does, however, look like it's a risk he's going to have to take, so with a look of resignation on his face, he steps out of the bathysphere, holding his hand directly in front of her face, figuring he'd give it one last shot—and finally,  _finally,_ she takes his hand, grasping it firmly with that blank stare still on her face. She allows him to lead her into the bathysphere before him before shutting the glass window and activating the switch. He selects  _Olympus Heights_ from the destination board, and they're off, that much closer to getting the hell out of here.

* * *

Olympus Heights is pretty much the same as he remembers it—which he takes to be a good sign, and an indication that it hasn't been several years (and why would it be?) since we first woke up in Fontaine's lair. As the bathysphere docks, the waves rocking the craft back and forth violently, he takes a moment to wonder about how long he's been down here. It had been…the 10th of May, hadn't it, when he'd crashed? The whole fiasco with Atlas/Fontaine and Ryan couldn't have lasted more than a day—eight or nine hours, at the most. But it's definitely been at least a day now—maybe even two. He looks over at El-izabeth, mumbling to herself as she twists the thimble on her severed pinky, and then to Sally, who looks like she can't wait to get out of the bathysphere. He thinks about his life before—or, at least, the life he  _thought_ he'd had, living on a farm with his parents. Now that he actually tries to recall details, he finds he can't recall any, his faux past reduced to faded, blurry images, with no context and no meaning behind them. He sees brief flashes of things he knew he'd known before he came down here—but strangely enough, the faces don't have names anymore, and the places are just places he's never been, and never will go. He's not overly bothered by it—the less he remembers of  _that,_ the better, and it's not like he's ever going to see those people again.

He looks at El-izabeth, suddenly curious about how long  _she's_ been down here—and for that matter, Sally, too. Had they both been here since the beginning? Probably not Sally, since she's only seven, and he'd read or heard somewhere that Rapture was founded in 1946. El-izabeth doesn't seem that old, either—it's hard to tell with how fucked up her face is, but a closer look had revealed a rather youthful face, devoid of any wrinkles or saggy skin, even counting in the usual traits of splicerism—which she doesn't have. It's almost impossible to guess her exact age, but he's going to place her at around…her twenties, early or mid to be more exact. She doesn't look much older than him, and she probably  _wasn't_ born and artificially grown in a lab, so it's a safe bet. It's entirely possible that she was brought to Rapture as a young child and had grown up here, though the possibilities of her escaping Sisterhood would have been pretty slim—maybe she barely escaped the age limitations by the time Ryan started. He'll have to ask her, one day, if she remembers.

The bathysphere's rocking dies down to a slight disruption of the water, and as soon as Sally deems it calm enough to stand, she jumps up and races for the door, trying in vain to push it open herself. Jack takes a few more seconds to get his bearings, checking his pistol and supply reserves. They'll have to stock up soon, preferably when El gets back—more health kits and EVE hypos would be an excellent idea, and some food wouldn't hurt either. When's the last time he had an actual  _meal?_  On the surface? Doubtful—he didn't think Fontaine seemed the type to care how his things were treated. Maybe he'd just been sitting in a room on a chair eating saltines for the past two years. He makes a mental note to never eat saltines again, just in case, and resolves to get all three of them a bucket of KFC or something when they get out of here. God, wouldn't that be nice.

"Why do you talk out loud all the time? Don't you want to keep  _some_ things inside your head?"

Oh, right. There are other people here besides him, who all want to get out of here just as much as he does. They should probably get on that, then. He clears his throat, looking straight at her, and stands up, immediately falling on his ass again when the boat jerks unexpectedly. The only upside is that Sally's knocked down too, and she makes sure to complain about it the second it registers. Typical.

"Sal, get up and stop whining. And move away from the door while you're at it, too—I'm gonna open it." He makes sure to make it obvious that he's ignoring her beginning wails, and it has the intended effect—she sits up straight and huffs, rolling aside to allow him access to the glass window looking out at the burning rubble of the Apollo Square Metro Station. He pushes open the door with little effort, and makes sure El-izabeth gets out first before they do. After she steps out, raving about how beautiful Paris looks in the sunset—which,  _what?_ —Jack ushers Sally out, grabbing her by the shoulder before she can run up ahead. The three of them set off in search of Cohen's apartment—he just hopes the bastard didn't get himself et before he came back, or if he did, that he died within his home. He's not all that pleased at the prospect of having to search for his corpse amongst a city full of them.

Jack hoists Sally onto his hip once again, deciding that at least until they get out of the station she won't be able to walk five feet without stepping on broken rubbish or embers that haven't quite died out yet. This place really is a mess, the worst he's seen out of all of Rapture. How the hell had Ryan expected the city to come back from this? What was there left to rule? He should have gotten out while he still could have. But he didn't, and now he's dead. As they pass through the metro station and begin to navigate their way through the burning rubble of the rest of the Square, Jack allows his mind to wander to the other citizen of Rapture. Is there anybody left who is still sane? Probably not. Everyone is either spliced up, a Little Sister/Big Daddy, or dead. The few sane people he'd met in his time here are now all dead, at least two by his hand—Tenenbaum's fate is still unknown to him, but despite what she's done to him, he hopes she made it out with the girls. His heart skips a beat when he entertains the possibility that they're still stuck down here just like them, and he files that theory away for later—before they leave he should probably at least  _try_ to attempt contact. He owes her that much.

There are still a lot of things to resolve before they get out, he realizes—they've still got to get El back, and yeah, she's right there, but her mind isn't where it should be, or rather,  _who_ —and now he's got Dr. Frankenstein to worry about. They still have to get the key from Cohen, who they're probably going to have to kill—no way he'd just hand it over, not without sending them on some stupid task to complete for him. He's an old nut, shouldn't be too hard to crack—no Fontaine, at least. After they get the key they have to find another bathysphere that will take them to wherever the hell Market Street is—El knows where it is, but if they don't have El, they can't move forward. At least Edith Piaf there isn't trying to kill them.

They stop when they reach the main square, where the hanging scaffolding is. It doesn't look too changed from when he and Sally last passed through here—a few more bodies, sure, but otherwise more of the same. Nothing to be concerned about, at any rate, and so after scrounging a bit for money and supplies, they continue forward, through the square and underneath the archway that boasts the path to Olympus Heights. Of course, on the other side is more rubble, some of it flaming, overturned train cars, and lots more corpses, but that's to be expected. It's not until one of them moves that any real trouble begins. Jack jumps back, Sally screams, and he attempts to zap it with his new Plasmid, only to miss and then get pushed to the side by El-izabeth. He thinks she's finally come back and is getting ready to help, but she just runs past the two of them and disappears behind an overturned crate. Go figure. Jack quickly regains his sense after that and tries again, this time successfully electrocuting the splicer and killing him. It's over as quickly as it began, and he glances at Sally, who is glaring sourly at the spot where El-izabeth had hid. Silently, he agrees.

"Yeah, she's useless," he whispers after a moment to the girl on his hip. "But what are we going to do?"

Sally gives him a look that tells him exactly what they could do, right now, with zero consequences in the short term. Jack doesn't bother giving her a look in return, or even a response, unless 'eye-rolling' can be counted. He loots the dead splicer for ammo or money, neither of which he has, and then continues on, not stopping to wait for El-izabeth, and almost not caring whether she followed. She would, if only because she had nowhere else to go. They reach the Apollo Square gates not too long afterwards, and Jack has to take careful steps not to trip over any of the numerous piles of trash littering this area, but it's not easy with a seven year old kid on his hip. It doesn't help that she chides him every time he almost drops her, and refuses to walk herself if it's that big of an issue. They step over the broken parts of a Circus of Values vending machine, spread out across the threshold of the second gate unlike the last time they—or at least he—had been through here.

"Who the fuck takes time to do this?" asks Jack out loud, to no one in particular. "What's the point? It was already broken. You didn't need to spread out the pieces like the world's lamest trip wire.  _Motherfucker_ ," he swears, as he almost trips for the umpteenth time on  _something._ Fucking Rapture. What a shithole. "I'm going to find whoever did this and kill them."

Sally, for once, ignores him, but that might just be because she's far too focused on El-izabeth's slow progress behind them, inspecting the ground closely. She hasn't said much of anything since she's gotten on the bathysphere out of the department store—she had barely acknowledged Sally or Jack since they got  _out._ Jack had briefly wondered if this was a new psychosis, but the few times she  _had_ spoken, it'd been about Paris, so he thinks not. Still, it's concerning, especially considering that whole bathysphere episode. He's not a  _total_ dick, despite the evidence, so he's not going to just ditch her, but it's seeming like a great idea right about now—she sure is taking her sweet time crossing the short space between the two gates. He looks at Sally, hoping she'll understand his pain, but the girl is intently watching the splicer behind them with a look of utter disdain. He suppresses a chuckle at that—the expression is almost comical on the young girl's face, but he can honestly say he feels the same. El wouldn't do this shit to him, he just knows.

At long last, she reaches the other side, and without even a glance in their general direction, passes by the two of them and heads to the bulkhead leading to Olympus Heights. Sally huffs, irritated, and Jack pats her on the back comfortingly. "It's going to be okay," he tells her, not even convincing himself. "She'll go away eventually. I just…don't know when. But she will. And then we'll have El back, and—yeah."

"You're a terrible liar, Mister Jack."

* * *

As soon as they're on the other side, Sally points out a Circus of Values vending machine, and Jack heads over there with her, intending to stock up on supplies, ammo, and possibly food. He looks over his shoulder once to check up on El-izabeth, who hadn't followed them, but at last had seemed to acknowledge them—if only in passing—and is now standing by the entrance to the Bistro Square. Jack stocks up on pistol ammo, as that's the only weapon he had awoken with—he notices a new type of ammo for something called a Hand Cannon, and he makes a mental note to be on the lookout for it. His pistol is great, but he's getting the feeling he's going to need something more powerful soon. He purchases a Pep Bar and a bag of stale chips for Sally to munch on before he sets to work reloading his gun and refilling his EVE. There aren't any enemies about, so he also takes the liberty to tend to some of his wounds and snag a couple of First Aid Kits too. He places anything he doesn't use in Sally's satchel, which she assures him isn't too heavy, and he's just about to try and call El-izabeth over when he notices she's missing.

"Elizabeth?" he calls out anyways, standing up. He takes a few steps back from Sally to see if maybe she's just turned the corner or something—maybe she went into the Bistro—but no, she's nowhere to be seen. "Shit. Where the hell did she go?"

"I don't know. I wasn't watching her. She's a big kid, she can take care of herself, remember?"

"Not this one. This one's a fucking idiot, she doesn't know shit. She thinks we're in  _Paris,_ strolling through the town square. She's going to get herself killed, and then we're screwed, because  _I_ sure as shit don't know where this Market Street place is, and we really don't have the time to find out. I'd like to get out of here before I starve to death, thanks. God, I'm hungry." He, however, ignores the almost empty bag of chips Sally offers him. "I'll get my own.  _After_ we find—"

" _Look out!"_ Sally suddenly gasps, dropping to all fours and wincing. Jack swivels around just in time to get a meathook across the face, and he hisses in pain, swearing loudly as he brings a hand to his cheek to wipe away the blood from the graze. He ducks as another is thrown his way, and brings his gun up blindly to shoot in the general direction of their attacker. It doesn't sound like any of the bullets hit, and it takes his a few moments to get his focus back. He turns around and hauls Sally up roughly, pushing her behind him.

"Get behind me, and stay there," he orders, unnecessarily.

" _Duh,_ " Sally points it out. But she grabs onto the hem of his shirt and does as she's told.

Whatever had attacked them—a Spider Splicer, must have been, the meathooks—is gone by now, or at least not attacking them anymore. He can hear it moving, somewhere, close by, but he can't  _see_ it, and that's a problem. He moves closer to the archway entrance to Mercury Suites, Sally following closely behind, and stops when he hears someone screaming bloody murder. He looks to the girl behind him, debating, and then swiftly brings her to rest on his hip as he runs into battle. He sharply turns the corner and spots a sizable group of splicers, huddled around a small waterfall art décor piece, and one of them is being impaled with a long, sword-like object that he recognizes as rebar. Jack blinks, stopping shot of actually coming out from behind the corner as he watches, confused. The rebar seems to be moving of its own accord, though not without notice-the other splicers have noticed the cries of their dying companion, and are now banging their weapons against the ground and screaming at the ceiling. Jack steps back even further when the rebar is sent flying his way, ducking once again behind the safety of the stone corner.

He and Sally watch as the splicers try but fail to find the source of…whatever that was, and start arguing amongst themselves as to which one of them did it. Jack thinks about backing away, slowly but surely, and then getting the hell away from there and back to what they were  _supposed_ to be doing, but then a figure materializes out of thin air beside one of the Baby Janes. The figure, now oddly familiar as she turns to look at them, winks at the pair before plunging a heated meathook into the unfortunate woman's lower back, ripping out what looks like a kidney. She laughs hysterically, grinning as she looks at the rest of splicers, who now all have their weapons pointed at none other than El—because of  _course_ she'd only come back in a life-or-death situation. Just typical of his luck, really. But that doesn't matter now, because El—the real El, at long last—is back, and she's going to brutally eviscerate these splicers for them. Well, less work for him, and they got their guide back, so a bonus—he's going to call it a win. He steps back even further from the action, awaiting her next move, and sets Sally down, crouching beside her as he watches El work. Hopefully, she can do this by herself and she won't need Jack to step in—previous instances of her brutal combat techniques assure Jack that that will most likely be the case—but just in case, he readies his Plasmid hand with Incinerate! and gets ready to fight.

El, meanwhile, backflips away from an offending splicer, who had just attempted to skewer her with his fireplace poker. He brandishes it like a sword, waving it in her face after she lands, screaming in her face, and spitting. She simply wrestles it out of his grip and stabs him through the eye with it, cooing sardonically. She uses his falling body like a springboard, leaping onto his chest and backflipping over his head, ripping the poker out. As she laughs, she stabs somebody else with the poker, who had thought they could get the drop on her—Jack winces as the poker exits through their back, some organ he can't place impaled loosely on the end of the instrument. Sally, surprisingly, doesn't say anything—but she hides her face in his shoulder after that.

El discards the poker after that, returning to her meathooks, and dodging a blow from a Thuggish, whom she stabs—she worms the hook inside his stomach and rips out his small intestine, waving it in his face before slicing his throat. She screeches as he dies, half-laughing, half-wailing as he clutches his throat, choking on his own blood as he falls to his knees. El very quickly gets bored of his theatrics and rips out his throat, too, throwing it at the next splicer as she pounces on the Leadhead. There were eight of them in total, Jack remembers—the death of the first one was what had drawn him over here. This would be the fourth one—she deals with him in an equally brutal manner, placing a hand on his forehead and sending a thousand volts of pure electricity through his body, killing him instantly. El seems  _disappointed_ by this, and frowns, before deciding to rip out his organs anyways. She makes do with his liver and at least one of his kidneys before she's interrupted by a lead pipe to the back of her head.

Jack shifts beside Sally, getting ready to head into battle if she's knocked unconscious, but thankfully, she's just knocked down, face first into the bloody puddle she'd made. Jack nearly vomits right there and then, but fortunately he's soon distracted by El's dramatic screaming, and he winces as the high volume hurts his ears. She flips around, scraping one of her meathooks across the Baby Jane's face, and rips some of the skin off of her cheek—well, what's left of it, anyways. As the baby Jane screams in pain, and El prepares to probably tear out some vital organ, Jack decides that if they both keep this up they'll be here forever and shoots her in the side of the head.

El looks his way, astonished, and growls in warning before jumping up to deal with another splicer who's decided to run away. A wise decision, but sadly a vain effort. There are two remaining here, biding their time, and as El leaves to chase down their partner, they emerge from the shadows, looking straight at Jack—or, more accurately, Sally.

Like  _hell._

Jack stands up abruptly, disturbing the girl crying in his shoulder, and pushes her behind him before taking aim at the nearest one and firing. He catches the Thuggish in the shoulder, and as he starts to move towards him, brandishing his weapon, Jack sets him on fire, leaving him to burn as he focuses on the last one. She stays back, but her eyes don't leave the Little Sister as she prepares to attack, only sparing Jack the briefest of glances before advancing forward, twirling her meathooks in her hands.

Time to execute one of his favorite methods of dealing with splicers. He sets her on fire, too, and then switches to Insect Swarm, releasing a swarm of bees onto her person, before stepping back and letting nature take its course. She screams in agony, flailing her arms about fruitlessly as the bees slowly sting her to death—though, the fire probably had something to do with it, too. Jack likes to imagine that the bees are on fire—the image of a hundred tiny bees engulfed in flames while brutally murdering someone does bring a smile to his face, but he's also aware that he's probably sentenced all those bees to death. Does he feel bad about that? Yes. But not enough to regret it—he looks back at Sally, and smiles, the expression unintentionally warm. She doesn't smile back, but she does race to him, clutching his leg, taking shaky breaths as she tries not to cry.

"Hey, hey," he murmurs, unbelievably soft, as he crouches down to be at eye-level with her. He hugs her to his chest, gazing at where El had run off to—he thinks he sees her, in the distance, stabbing something. Probably torturing that poor splicer. "It's okay. It's going to be okay. We're safe now…and we got El back."  _I think._ "We're going to find Cohen, and we're going to get that key, and we're going to leave this place behind, forever. The sun, Sally, remember? Grass, dirt,  _trees._ All that good stuff. So many things are waiting for you. But we have to live to see them, and this is how."

"I know," she says after a moment, and she sounds like she wants to say more, but that's all she says. "I know. I know."

"It's scary, the way El fights," he continues, correctly guessing that that's the source of her discomfort. Maybe she's realizing for the first time just how much trouble they're in—what kind of world she's been living in for the past couple of years, or maybe even her whole life. "I don't like it either—I could do without the dismemberment and evisceration. But it's the way she fights, and at least she knows how to take care of herself. She'll never have to do it again once we get out of here."

"I know."

"And we  _will_ get out of here, Sally. I promised both of you—and I owe it to you, whether you know it or not. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Sal, I swear it. I promised, and I don't break my promises. Ever. We're almost there, kiddo. Almost..." Even as he says these words, meant as simple placation, he knows them to be true. He can't quite explain it, but he and Sally have a  _bond_ —maybe it's because she's the first real friendly face he's seen down here, with no ulterior motives of her own and no amoral bone in her body. Perhaps it's because despite his best efforts, this innocent girl, another one of this city's countless victims, with no hope for redemption…he's become  _attached_ to her. Sally has awakened something inside of him that he wasn't sure he still had anymore, after everything he'd sacrificed to survive—and he's so twisted from who he used to be that he can't even recognize it anymore. Is it his humanity? His hope, his empathy, his morals? He doesn't know—maybe it's a combination of the four—but if there's one thing he's certain of, as he holds this fragile child in his arms, soothing her with gentle words and reassurances of the future, it's that.

They  _will_ get out of here. All three of them, no matter what they have to do or who they have to kill...no matter what they have to sacrifice.


	15. Chapter 15

**I know it's been seven months since I updated this and most of you have probably forgotten about this story and will have to skim the previous chapters to remember what's going on. Honestly, same. College is awesome but it also fucking sucks. I'm real sorry for the wait and while I'm not going to make any promises, I'm hoping to have the next chapter out in way less than seven months. Please enjoy!**

* * *

Considering what just happened, Jack decides that a little rest is exactly what they need. They head back to the vending machine and Jack purchases another bag of chips for her—and one for himself—and the unlikely duo sits on the floor, munching away at the stalest chips under the sea and listening to the distant screams of a splicer. Sally, once she realizes what the weird sounds are, mentions that she hopes El isn't in any danger. Out loud, he agrees, but mentally, he figures it's probably a safe bet that El isn't the one screaming in terror right now.

Soon enough, the screaming dies down, a long, shrill sound piercing the air before petering out into a whimper as—assumedly—the unfortunate bastard finally bites the dust. Jack wonders why it took so long, and figures that now would be a really good time to catch up with El. He mentions as such to Sally, who doesn't look too enthused at the idea, but really, what other choice do they have?

* * *

They find El viciously stabbing a corpse with her meathooks, her face becoming more and more contorted with rage every time the skin is punctured. The splicer himself is long since dead, either from blood loss or—more probable—the fact that his heart is laying some ways away from him, torn out by El's bare hands and flung carelessly across the room. Jack stares, horrified, at the organ, swallowing before daring to speak. He pushes Sally behind him, hoping she doesn't see the horrifying display. He realizes that it's a futile effort, but he has to try.

"…El?" Tentatively, he takes a step forward, heart beating so fast he can barely breathe. He hears Sally holding her breath behind him. "Elizabeth?"

She looks up, sharply, and hisses angrily, pointing a bloody meathook at the pair. Her hands are covered in blood, all the way to the middle of her forearms, and there's a small organ on the tip of the hook she's pointing at them—Jack thinks it might be an eyeball. He jumps back, and Sally lets out a small yelp, pulling Jack even farther back.

"Elizabeth, it's just us," he tries again, after he's gotten his breath back. "It's—Ace and Little Bird," he corrects himself before he can make the mistake. It's probably better to refer to themselves by the nicknames she gave them—better chance of her becoming non-hostile. It works, at least as far as he's concerned—she perks up when he says  _Ace,_ and her face softens at  _Little Bird._

She eyes them curiously, now, her hostility not completely gone but severely dampened. "Ace…and Little Bird…" she whispers the names, tilting her head in the usual manner. "Ace and Little Bird. Ace and Little Bird." She continues murmuring the name to herself as she slowly stands up, never taking her eyes off of them as she scrutinizes them carefully. Jack feels anxious underneath her gaze, and he can feel Sally tense up behind him—he has a feeling this is not going to end well. Suddenly, she stops, standing up straight and cocking her head at him. "Ace."

Jack is confused, but notes that her stance isn't aggressive any longer, so he'll count that as…not bad? He doesn't really know how to express what he's feeling right now, or even  _what_ he's feeling. Surprise, certainly; maybe anxiety; definitely a little bit of uncertainty. He looks El over, noting her change in stance and her seemingly seamless shift in demeanor—she's not hostile anymore, as she sheathes her meathooks, but she's not glowing with amicability either. She does radiate familiarity, though, so that's…good? He tries again, clearing his throat. "Are you—okay?"

"Hm?" El looks surprised, staring at him like  _he's_ the drug addict. "I…am fine." She doesn't sound like she believes herself. "Are you—okay?" Jack doesn't miss how… _coherent_ she sounds, or the mimicry of his own inflection in her parroted words. The Parisian demeanor must have knocked loose a few more braincells—she's using  _pronouns_  now, which is a very good sign. He feels like breathing a sigh of relief, both at the fact that she's back and she can (supposedly) talk again.

"I'm—not," he says, then winces. "I mean, yeah, I am, but—you—you're…ah…nevermind," he backtracks, as he sees the expression on her face. Despite her improved elocution, her face is still half-melted, and so he can only see half of her expression—but it's definitely judging him. "Do you remember what we were doing?"

El looks at Sally behind Jack, giving her a very clear look of 'can you believe this guy?' before answering his question, albeit haltingly with an air of understandable confusion. "We are leaving, yes? Leaving here." She gestures vaguely around her, flinging her arm still covered in blood. A few specks of it fly off her arm and onto the ground around her. Jack flinches.

"Close," he says after a moment, still surprised by the sudden change in speech. He's sure he'll get used to it—the odd way she phrased her sentences before and the broken English were never his cup of tea. It's definitely a welcome change. He wonders if her mind is still broken— _maybe she has access to her memories now?_ He'll ask later—now is not the time. "We were actually trying to find a genetic key to unlock the bathysphere, which I accidentally sent to someplace called Market Street. The key is going to allow us to pilot the bathysphere to the surface, remember?"  _Please tell me that you do._

El does nod, slow and hesitant, and Jack breathes a sigh of relief. "Yes. I remember."

El is staring at him curiously, wondering where his head is at, or maybe trying to pick him apart—he's not really fond of either option. He tries to square up and look her in the eyes to let her know he's not afraid of her, but that isn't true, and anyway, he can't  _see_ into her eyes, because she's taller than him—like, almost freakishly so. Since when? Had she always been…God, at least a  _foot_ taller than him, what the hell. Or—no, wait. No, she can't be  _seven feet tall._  He moves closer to her to measure her up, and though she looks at him weird when he brings a hand up, he ignores her, using it to guess the height difference between them. Oh, that's alright, then—being closer helped his accuracy significantly. She  _is_ taller than him, but only by a few inches—he'd say, at a complete guess, about…well, let's see.  _He's_ six feet five inches, which is already taller than most, and she looks about…three or four inches taller than him? At a distance, or at least where he's standing and in this light, which admittedly is not great. So that would place her about six feet... _nine_  inches—tall enough to be noticeable to anyone who bothered to stop and look, but at a passing glance, it isn't too obvious. Maybe that was why he had never noticed. At least he doesn't have to crane his neck to look at her. He doesn't like taller people.

Why the fuck is he just noticing this now? Why does it  _matter_?

"Is he…talking to us?" El's newfound voice breaks through his thoughts, bringing his attention back to the current situation and the rather pressing matters at hand. It sounds so normal and un-El-like that he isn't sure who's talking at first.

"No, but he'll shut up soon, so don't worry." That's Sally.

The point is, it doesn't. " _Excuse me,_ " Jack says, noticing the insult, but not really being in a position to refute it—after all, it's true. He sighs wearily, ignoring the both of them as he takes a moment to himself to process everything that's happened in the past…hour? El-izabeth came back, was absolutely no help, then left as soon as the splicers came back, then  _El_  came back—presumably not remembering any of it—and they still need to find Cohen, get his key, then find that bathysphere he accidentally sent God knows where. He still has yet to tell Sally the truth about his murderous past, which he also has to keep from El. Oh, and speaking of, El is taller than him, apparently—and, he notes absently, as he runs a hand down his face, he's starting to grow a faint beard. How long has he been down here again? He adds another note to the mental list he's got going on—shaving cream and a razor are on his things to get once he's out, along with some actual fucking food and some new clothes. At least he's not in the sweater anymore. God, he's got so much shit to go through in the next couple of hours.  _Fuck._

"Alright, alright. Okay. So, we've got El back—welcome back, by the way—that's good. Great, in fact. Excuse me while I ramble. So we've got one of our most important players back, we know what we're doing but not where we're going—we're going to have to improvise on that bit—obviously. We find Cohen, then we find the bathysphere, then we go home. Maybe establish some kind of contact with Tenenbaum, I have no idea. If she's down here, we should probably get her out. But that's something to worry about later. Are we ready?"

Sally raises her hand like she's in a kindergarten classroom, impatiently waiting for Jack to notice. "Who is Cohen? You keep talking about him and how he's the key to everything, but neither of us know who the heck he even is."

Jack shrugs in response, actually not having a good idea of who Sander Cohen is himself—just that he was one of Ryan's devout followers, and he's now a crazy lunatic living out his deluded fantasies along with the rest of Rapture. "I'm not too solid on that either? What I do know is that he was in Andrew Ryan's inner circle, and anyone in that circle was granted almost unlimited access to everything—bathyspheres, for example. So—well, you already know."

"We have to find him," Sally offers lamely. It's an unnecessary addition, but, its effective in snapping them out of their respective thoughts and reminding them of their mission. "We don't have a lot of time," she says, attempting to alleviate the awkwardness.

"On the contrary, Sally," Jack retorts, as he begins to move past and over large piles of rubble and trash that are littering the street. He notes that there are several broken bottles on the ground, and very reluctantly stops and waits for Sally to catch up with him so he can carry her. "We have all the time in the world. A human being can go one week without water, and three weeks without food. We've got that long, at least."

"How long have you been down here?"

"I—don't know. I think it's been two days, maybe three. There's no real way to tell time down here, you know—all the clocks are broken. It was 14th of May when my plane crashed and I wound up in this shi—in this place. I don't know what time it will be or what day it'll be when we get out." A horrifying thought strikes Jack as he ponders the thought of never leaving, of being forced to spend the rest of his life down here with only a little girl and a drugged psychopath for company. He never thought he'd die down here—he'd so far comforted himself with the thought of refusal, but wishing for something doesn't make it so. He heaves a sigh, looking around for El, but she's already gone up ahead. "Well, come on then—from what I know of Cohen, he's not going to wait forever."

* * *

_Finding_  Sander Cohen turns out to be the easy bit. As soon as they approach the entry arch to the apartment complex, they can hear the elegant allegro of piano strokes and the pounding of ivory keys in the distance. Jack stops when he hears the tune, recognizing it as the very same that had played when he'd first entered Fort Frolic's theatre—that poor kid had been forced to play it over and over again until Cohen had killed him. The music, it would appear, is coming from the right side of the complex, so that's where the soggy bastard must be hiding. He turns to El to relay this information, but she's already on the move, Sally hot on her heels, heading towards the source of the music. Jack quickly catches up, glaring at the splicer, but with no real heat behind his gaze.

Cohen's is the first door on the right, with his name engraved on a gold plate above it. El, seeming to have no regard for manner or privacy, pushes open the door as soon as she reaches it, and waves her arm in an 'after you' gesture. As soon as all three of them are inside, Jack's radio switches on, emitting the voice of none other than the maestro himself. He seems…oddly pleased that they've come a-calling.

" _I hear your wings flapping in my home…flip flap flip flap flip flap. Come into the light, little moth, come in…and I see you've brought company! Oh, I do love pets…just make sure they're well-behaved."_

Jack doesn't look around to see if either El or Sally is offended by the comparison.  _He_ at least is offended  _for_  them. He looks around cautiously, wondering if Cohen is in the room with them right now—or maybe he's observing from a security camera or something, locked away in his room. Looking to his right, he sees a damaged hallway that leads to what looks like the kitchen; to his left is a rubble-filled hallway that leads to a dining room. A door is to the right up ahead, which he can only assume leads to Cohen's chambers or at least the upstairs. He makes for it, but El stops him.

"Wait," she says, calmly. She points to two splicers ahead, and Jack starts, hand flying to his gun, but then he realizes that they don't seem hostile—at least, not yet. They're waltzing along to the music, ignoring them, and whether that's because they are unaware of their presence or simply do not care is unclear. He decides that it's probably best not to find out.

As if sensing his inner thoughts—or maybe he'd just been speaking out loud again—Cohen's voice comes over the radio again, warning him against messing with the dancers. " _I see you're still testing your wings, little moth. Stay and enjoy the dance, if you wish…but don't dare rattle their rhythm._ "

Sally blows a raspberry, unimpressed by the mysterious voice coming from the shortwave. She glances at the radio on his hip disdainfully, making a face at it. "Oh, big talk coming from a scaredy-cat. He's just hiding in his room, and no matter what we do he probably won't come out."

El and Jack exchange a glance, the same incredibly stupid idea sparking in both of their minds at the same time. They turn to look at Sally simultaneously, and El is grinning. Jack is not, fully aware of how unpleasant the next several minutes are going to be—and Sally catches his expression, the sarcastic sneer on her face sliding off in pale-faced anticipation. She looks anxiously between the two adults, who look back at each other—they're thinking the same thing.

"Are you sure?" El asks, and although she sounds apprehensive, she doesn't sound displeased. If they manage to get her out of here, she and Jack are going to have a serious talk about her wanton bloodlust.

Jack nods. "There's almost no way in hell he'd just  _give_ us the key, and even if he did, we'd have to do a million errands for him first. I'd much prefer this way." He looks back at Sally, still completely oblivious, and gives her a thumbs up. "Whatever happens next, stay close to me. It's going to take both me and El to take this guy down, and I can't be distracted by you not following orders. Got it?"

"No," Sally says almost immediately. "I  _don't_ got it. What's going on? Nobody tells me anything!"

"Calm down," El says sternly. "We will kill him. Ace will take the key." She nods in acknowledgement at Jack, who nods back.

"We can only hope. El," he says, turning to the woman in question and sighing. "For the record, I think this is a horrible, self-destructive plan, but we're all in this together, so let's get started."

El looks back at the dancing splicers, tilting her head to the side, and thinks about it. Frowning, she shakes her head after a minute, stepping back to allow him access to the still dancing splicers. Jack takes the offer, glancing back at Sally as he steps forward—she looks at him worriedly, but he smiles reassuringly (or tries to), and she relaxes minutely.

He doesn't engage with the pair immediately—if at all possible, he'd like to take care of the two in one blow so that all of their attention can be focused on their primary objective. Some proximity mines would be pretty damn useful right now—placed correctly, they would be very efficient at killing two birds with one stone, literally. He wonders if there might be a grenade launcher around here somewhere, and mentions as much to El, who leaves in the direction of the dining room to look. Jack takes the couple of seconds to explain the plan to Sally, who doesn't look all that thrilled about it.

"Are we sure we can't just  _ask_ him for the key? He really won't just give it to us?" she asks desperately—and he wonders when fighting had become so terrible for her. She hadn't really cared but before—but maybe it's just witnessing El's methods first hand. If that's the case, then he agrees, but there's not much any of them can do about it.

"I know this guy, I've met him before. He's a straight up bastard, and there's no way he's going to let us go without a fight. So, that's what we're going to give him. It'll be quick, I promise."

"Do you remember what I said about being a terrible liar?"

El returns shortly after with a grenade launcher she had acquired from somewhere—convenience, much?—along with four proximity mines. She wordlessly hands them to Jack, who takes them none too gracefully. As he reloads the empty weapon, he glances at her curiously.

"Should I bother asking where you got this?"

"It was someone else's." She shrugs, looking at him with a blank expression. "They do not need it anymore."

"…Okay." At this point, he figures it's probably best if he doesn't know.

After checking to make sure the launcher is functional, he takes no more than ten seconds to come up with a strategy and moves to implement it. He takes extra caution not to disturb the dancers or alert them to his presence as he moves forward—at least until he fires a proximity mine not a foot away from their current position. They're waltzing in a small circle, and if his calculations aren't off, they'll be back this way and in range of the mine—and certain fatal injury—in less than eight seconds, so he has less than that to hurry. He quickly crosses to the other side of the room, placing a proximity mine where he thinks their limp bodies will land when they set off the first one. At best, it's definitely going to kill them—at worst, the first one already does and he's just wasted ammunition. He takes a step back as the couple moves towards the first mine, racing back towards El and Sally and placing two more mines in front of the door leading upstairs. Then, in the few split seconds he still has left, he grabs Sally and drags her to a safe distance, away from the fight.

A few seconds later, the splicers set off the mines, one right after the other, and their dying screams echo throughout the almost abandoned apartment, Jack's radio comes to life with Cohen's own berating insanity.

" _When will you ever learn to take instruction? I'm coming down there, little moth—coming down to teach you to **dance**._"

Well, that's not worryingly vague or anything. Still, none of them, even he, are so stupid that they don't know what that tone of voice implies. Jack throws down the now useless grenade launcher, hand flying to his pistol, and checking quickly to make sure that it's fully loaded. He flexes his fingers, startled when he feels a sharp electric shock—even though he'd meant to switch, the sting of electricity still sucks. He remembers what this Shock Jockey had done to that splicer when El had used it…hm. He doubts he'll be able to get close enough to use the same maneuver she had, but—now's his chance to try it out. He looks over at El, but he can't see her anywhere. She must be using…whatever trick she used back on those splicers. Didn't he have a Plasmid like that…oh, right—

" _I'm Sander fucking Cohen!"_

…Oh,  _right_.

He looks to the door, bracing himself for the explosion, and sure enough, as soon as Cohen wrenches open the door with fiery hands, the first mine is set off and he is unceremoniously thrown violently backwards, his back hitting the wall with a very ugly-sounding  _crack._ It's not clear whether that was the wall or Cohen's spine. Jack readies himself for action, waiting for the post-date artist to emerge—he still doesn't know where El is, but he trusts her to at least have his back.

He chances a quick look back to see if Sally's alright—she's still where he left her. Good. Jack ignores her again as he charges up his Plasmid hand, waiting for Cohen to get back on his feet again. He thinks he hears El shuffling around somewhere behind him, but he's forced to ignore it as Cohen stands up and throws a fireball his way. Dodging it proves to be the easy bit—it's when the old bastard vanishes in a red cloud of smoke that Jack realizes just how much trouble they're in.

" _Damnit,_  he can teleport. That's just—peachy. That's  _fantastic,_ just what we needed…" Isn't this hard enough? They don't need any more unnecessary complications. He scans the area for any sign that Cohen might be materializing, but there is none. El, however, doesn't have the same problem—she pops back into the visible spectrum shortly afterwards. She glances over Jack's way and shrugs.

"He is gone," she says, sounding disappointed. "What now?"

"He'll turn up again. We just have to be ready. Any moment now…"

_Any moment now_ turns out to be several seconds later, right behind Sally, who gets knocked to the ground as Cohen pushes her aside and lets loose a hail of fireballs upon his targets. Jack retaliates before he even knows what's going on, firing a thousand volts of Shock Jockey in his direction and electrocuting him on the spot. He fires two bullets in his general vicinity, freezing when he almost hits Sally. Luckily for both of them, she scrambles out of the way afterwards and even manages to throw something at the fucker before he can get away again. He doesn't take too kindly to that, but Jack electrocutes him again before he can do anything.

Jack fires a few more shots at Cohen before he has to reload, and of course that's when the electricity wears off and he disappears again. He looks around for him and then El, but neither of them are to be seen anymore.  _Where the hell **is** she, anyways? Leaving me to do all the hard work…_ He's torn from his thoughts by the sound of a materialization somewhere nearby. He swivels around, ready.

Cohen comes back not a moment later—far faster than last time—and he aims a hand at Jack's head, and unfortunately, he almost doesn't miss. Jack barely escapes with a singed ear. He ducks and switches from Shock Jockey to Insect Swarm, his preferred method of dealing with Houdinis. As soon as Cohen is in his sights again, he releases a swarm of bees in his general direction and waits. He notices the raised platform with the microphone he'd first seen when he'd walked in, and ducks behind that before refilling his EVE. As soon as Cohen's tormented screams fill the air, Jack activates his Incinerate! and sets the 'artist' on fire. He emerges from his hiding spot and dodges another fireball by Cohen.

Jack takes two seconds to look around for El again, noting Sally is cowering in the far right corner of the room behind an overturned leather chair. Figuring she's safe enough for now, he flicks his left hand and uses whatever power that brings, not caring as long as it's effective. He steps back, ducking to avoid another of his assailant's fireballs and turning to view the carnage that his anonymous Plasmid has wrought—but he sees nothing, and apparently, neither does Cohen.

" _Little moth, little moth,_   _where did you fly away to?_ "

Cohen's voice sounds far away, and for a moment Jack thinks he's fled—but then he looks and Cohen's only a few feet in front of him. Cohen calls out again, searching for Jack, even though he's  _right there_ —which is when Jack happens to glance down and realize that he's invisible. He starts, bringing up his Plasmid hand and turning it over—what had that Plasmid been called? Peeping Tom? It was the one that El had given him, as a gift of…whatever they were to each other. As one of Cohen's fireballs flies dangerously close to his head, he realizes now probably isn't the best time to think about it.

Cohen calls out again, but Jack can't decipher what he says—his voice seems to echo around the room, reverberating off the walls and giving Jack a headache. He flares up his Plasmid again, refreshing the invisibility effect, and moves towards where he had last seen Sally. No point in any of this if she doesn't make it out too. As he sneaks past Cohen, he risks a brief glance around the room for El, but he doesn't see her. He knows she hasn't fled. He doesn't have any reason to believe she'll still here, of course—just a gut feeling.

"Jack?" Sally, cowering behind an overturned leather chair. She peeks over the side of the arm and fixes her bottomless gaze on him. "Is that you?"

"How the fuck—you can  _see_ me?"

"Well—yeah…?"

A quick glance down at his arm reveals it's still transparent, but he can feel his EVE starting to run out. He ignores her unspoken question and kneels, leaning over the chair. "Listen, are you doing okay? Relatively speaking."

Sally looks past him at Cohen, who is now on the far side of the room, screaming bloody murder and taunting Jack with…well, bloody murder. She looks from the psychopath to him and shrugs, her expression oddly calm as she stares at him. She says nothing.

"Right. Well, if you see El—"

" _Fucking bitch!_ "

Sally stands up and Jack whirls around, noting with a mixture of horror and smothered annoyance that El has decided to join in on the fun, reappearing out of thin air and digging one of her hooks into Cohen's back. She throws another something at the back of Cohen's head while he's distracted and grinning when it catches him off guard. He turns to her, spitting very inappropriate words about her gender, but El just smiles and throws another something at his face. She laughs with glee when it bashes against his forehead—but he doesn't go down.

Jack switches back to Shock Jockey while he's distracted and fires a volt in his direction, the 'old fruit' (as one of his disciples had called him) spasming violently. As soon as the electricity wears off, he prepares to disappear again in a puff of smoke, but El throws another something at him that freezes him in place…literally. Old Man Winter, if he recalls the name correctly. Sander Cohen now resembles one of his prized plaster statues in Fort Frolic, but probably not for long. El figures that out too, and she begins bashing her meathooks against the ice statue, creating chips and dents in the arms and torso. A couple of good-sized cracks appear as well. Jack has to step in before she shatters him.

"El, we want to kill the guy, but we also want to have a corpse for the looting. Ice chunks don't count as a body, and they won't count as a genetic key to the bathyspheres."

El is entirely unimpressed with his logic and irritated with his sound reasoning. She glares at him, and in retaliation, bashes her meathooks one final time into the side of Cohen's temple, accomplishing the  _exact_ thing Jack had warned against. Of course. His head disappears, and the body immediately thaws out, falling to the floor, it's head cut clean off. The corpse lands right next to a horrified Sally, who screams and scurries away. Jack looks from the corpse to El, treating her to his best "what the fuck" expression.

"Thanks, El," he says, voice laced with sarcasm.

El, who either doesn't get it or is being a smartass herself, bows solemnly. "You are welcome," she says, no sarcasm of her own present in her tone. Jack throws his hands in the air and walks away, muttering to himself.

"At least he's dead?" Sally questions more than says, moving hastily away from the body. "That's what we wanted, right? The body's still there, too, so we can get the key."

"Yeah, I  _guess,_ " Jack sighs, displeased, as he frowns again at El, who shrugs. He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. Why didn't this shit happen to  _them?_  "Alright, step aside. Let me see…" He pushes Sally towards El and checks all of Cohen's pockets, coming up empty. He checks again, making sure he's got all the spots, and groans when he comes up with nothing again. "Okay, good news and bad news. Good news! It doesn't matter that you shattered Cohen, because bad news: he doesn't have the key. At least, not  _on_  him."

"Check his room," El offers, pointing to the doorway. She steps closer to it in an attempt to peer up the staircase, but to no avail. "It might be there."

"That's the only other place he  _could_ have it, right?" Sally asks, looking between the two adults again. "If I had a key, I'd either keep it in my pocket or in my room."

"Fair points, both of you," he concedes, still glaring at El. She either doesn't catch the look or doesn't give a shit. "Alright, I'll go and check. You two stay here—maybe see if you can find anything of use in this dump. Be right back. And—" he looks at El pointedly, making certain he has her attention before he continues. "Do. Not. Touch—or kill—anything. Please."

* * *

Upstairs is in far better condition than the downstairs, though still of course dilapidated and smelling of mildew. He can't actually  _feel_ the carpet on account of his wearing shoes, but it doesn't look appealing. Cohen is apparently the kind of person that decides a rug on top of carpet is necessary. Jack notes with some amount of surprise that the rug is actually covering up a huge hole in the floor, and can't decide if it would be funny or painful should Cohen take a wrong step someday. There are a few chests dotting the landscape, overflowing with costumes and some choice ammo, but for once Jack ignores the latter and heads over to the nearest plaster splicer. These too decorate the room in a worrying capacity. He pokes this one a few times to make sure that it's actually dead, and then whacks it upside the head for good measure. It doesn't move, but it doesn't fall down either—Jack's going to count that as a cautious win and move on. All in all, the room is as ugly and depressing as Sander Cohen was, and the bathroom isn't much better, though the plaster of the man on the seat does get a chuckle from him.

Once he's finished scanning the area for threats, he gets to work looking for any sign of a genetic key that looks like Ryan's, but it's not until he thinks to check around the actual bed itself that he finds anything.

The key—and thank fuck, there actually  _is_ a key—is inside a locked box underneath his bed, that's inside another locked box—both of which are no match for a hammer he'd found lying around. In a matter of seconds, the box is opened, and the genetic key is his. He makes certain to tuck it away safely somewhere on his person before investigating the  _other_ thing that had been inside the box.

Jack takes out the audio diary and examines it carefully, curious as to why a recording would be worth locking away in a box. He flips it over to see if he can make out a name, but the only thing he can make out is the last name— _Watson,_ and a date. October 16, 1958. He flips it back over, presses play, and almost drops the diary in shock.

He knows that voice, doesn't he?

" _I've found Comstock's little hideout, down at Market Street,_ "  ** _Elizabeth_** Watson says, her voice soft and quiet as if not wanting to be overheard.  _Well, then why did you make an audio recording that anybody could listen to?_ " _The bastard had the audacity to come here and open up a private detective agency, under his old moniker. Thinks he can just return to his old life, no fuss, without facing any consequences...I've scoped the place out, but I haven't confronted him…yet. I will, in due time—first, I've gotta find the girl. I've been gathering evidence about that…dozens of girls, missing, taken from the streets or their homes. Grotesque, but…_ " The recording of Elizabeth takes a long sigh, the machine transforming it into a rush of static, making him wince at the sound. " _I've been digging, as much information as I could gather, and—well, that's the weird thing. Most of it leads to Andrew Ryan, or Frank Fontaine, but…there is another name. Some guy named Sander Cohen that I think might have the information I need. I'll go see him tomorrow._ "

It's several minutes before he acknowledges that the tape is over—for the most part, he just sits there in uncomfortable silence, mulling over the implications over what he'd just heard. What he's just  _learned—_ a fraction of her past, her voice before, and some of the missing pieces click into place, creating so many more in the process.

Comstock,  _Comstock_. He knows that name—he's been called it before, by murder-psycho. She'd said something about him betraying her—or hurting her, more accurately—and his threatening to do the same to Sally. The mention of girls being taken from their homes must mean the Little Sisters. She wanted to find one, for some reason. No, not just anyone— _Sally,_ in particular. What did she want with Sally? What did  _Comstock_ want with Sally? Furthermore,  _what_ consequences? What did he do, especially to make Elizabeth hate him so much? Questions, so many questions…even now, Jack realizes that he might never find the answer to them. This woman, whoever she was… _El_ is far more than she ever seemed to be.

He shuts the diary off, taking the tape out and storing it with his numerous other ones, just in case. He looks hard at the empty diary before setting it down in the box again, noticing a note that apparently is supposed to go with it.

_Your companion is not who she seems to be, little moth._

_No shit._ Sander Cohen's script, no doubt. Does this mean that the fuck  _knew_ what they were here for, and planned accordingly? Did he leave these here for him to find? If he was just going to leave it in a box he was supposed to break into, why not just hand them the key and let them be on their way? The motives of Sander Cohen are not motives he wants to discover, so he pushes down the desire to sit here and ponder more when they could all be getting going. He pushes the box back under the bed, rises, and heads back downstairs, his mind still turning.

* * *

"Death is…too quick," El is saying as he emerges from the stairway. He stops when he hears her speak, hiding in the shadows. "No fun."

"I'm just glad he's dead in the first place," Sally says cheerily, rolling on the balls of her feet. She's standing very close to El, attempting to climb her like a monkey gym because Jack isn't anywhere in sight.

"It was nice," El laments, ignoring her. "I like killing. So fun when they scream."

"That's not incredibly unnerving or anything," Jack says as he steps into view, holding the key aloft. "I got it, by the way. We have one more thing to do here, and then we're home free." He'd decided that he probably shouldn't mention the audio diary to either of them. Sally wouldn't understand why it was important, and hearing it might send El into another psychosis. He needs to figure all this out on his own—he just needs some time and zero suspicion. He still has so many questions about El and her past, but he doubts she can answer them.

"What's that?" Sally asks, immediately abandoning her attempts to scale El. She skips over to Jack, trying to grab his arm and bring it to her level so she can get a better look.

"It's the key, Sally."

"No— _noo,_ " Sally groans, rolling her eyes as Jack grins. "I meant what do we have to do? I thought we just needed the key."

"Tenenbaum," El says, effectively grabbing their attention. "We must find her."

"You know, even if we didn't, I've been  _saying_ this whole time that there's more to it. God, kid, you just don't pay attention." Sally sticks her tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes. "Anyway. Not find, per se. I'd like to try and get in contact with her, see if she's still down here. If she is, we need to make contact and help get her out too. If not…well, either she's not down here or she doesn't have a way of contacting us back. In the case of the latter…well…I'd honestly rather not think about that, so I won't." He looks at El, suddenly very uncomfortable with the stare she's giving him. It's no different than the dozens of other times he's been treated to this stare, and it's not like it means anything—he knows she's just thinking, and needs somewhere to look. For some reason, though, now it makes him nervous. He decides not to mention it.

"Who is Tenenbaum, again?"

"She's…a  _friend_ of mine." He suppresses a wince at the heavy liberty taken on the word, and continues on. "Well. An acquaintance, at least. A very unlikely one. She might be trapped down here as well—I lost contact with her quite some time ago, before I even met you, Sally. I'd like to find her again before we leave, and  _possibly_ help her escape."

"Why?"

Why, indeed. The only reason he feels even obligated to find the good doctor is because she'd undone his mental conditioning of her own volition even when he'd…even after what he'd done. That, and the dozen or so little girls in her care that she'd saved from Jack. They should probably be rescued too. "She saved a bunch of little girls like you, Sally—Gatherers, Little Sisters, whatever you want to call them. She helped me too, and she still might be stuck down here. I don't know for certain, but if she is, we have to help her get out."

Sally doesn't respond verbally, but after a few moments her face does shift into an expression of resignation, and he guesses that's just as good. El nods, looking thoughtful, then pats Sally on the top of her head.

"It is okay, Little Bird," she says softly. She pauses for a long moment, thinking. Jack isn't going to pretend he hasn't noticed her strange tendency of only speaking six words at a time. A side effect of her most recent relapse, no doubt. "We will be home soon."

No they won't. None of them  _have_ homes anymore. Oh, and  _of course_ that's another thing they have to worry about, but Jack calms the rising anxiety in his chest. They have to get out of here first—he can worry about the future once he knows he  _has_ one. "That's right. Just this one thing, and we'll be on our way. Speaking of which, I think we should get to higher ground—might be a better chance of getting a signal that way. Either my radio is dead or there's no one left alive to contact, but it's been radio silence since this whole shitshow started. If I recall correctly, the topmost floors of Mercury Suites are off-limits since the staircase collapsed, but the second and third floors are ours to explore."


End file.
